Songs are books;
They share a story that is meaningful,
and personal,
etched into the lyrics themselves.
They tell of disaster and triumph,
loss and love,
happiness and sorrow,
often rolled into one.
Although the meaning
may be hidden just out of sight,
with a little time and effort
the plot will become easier to pinpoint.
Cause if you listen to the words
behind that melody,
you will find the hidden meaning,
the plot of this songs
story.

Two things come to mind at that end of the year:
1. Thank goodness!
2. Stress! Stress, stress, stress, stress!

If high school was a story, where would the falling action be in the plot?
That's the thing, though,
There isn't one.
The new year comes
and our stories only rise up
and up to the ****** building and building until suddenly

STOP
Do not go on.
Do not turn the page.
This is the end of the testing session.

The sudden fall.
We learned so much, so fast
But we lose it just as quickly.
****** to resolution, there is no in between.

Another year gone like that.
And thus comes the "new" beginning.
A "new" story,
A "new" chapter,
history just waiting to repeat itself.

The beginning:
Of a year the same as all the rest.
Of time wasted.
Of knowledge gone.
Of saying this time, yes, this time will be different.
Of saying it won't be the same as you've made it for the past eleven years.
Because this year, you're going out with a bang, giving it your best shot.

Until it all doesn't matter.
Until that disease sets in.

So yes,
It's the beginning.
Will you make it new?

I see her in the bed; she's gone to sleep.
Wake up, Love, satisfy my lust.
My hand is wrapped around the knife.
I can't wait to see your flow of blood.
I can't wait to watch it fall.
Are you afraid to be a ghost?

But already in life, you're just a ghost.
You're lucky your floor is soft to break your fall.
I lean over to see my reflection in your pool of blood.
Before I leave I'll have to clean my knife.
I hope you thank me for your everlasting sleep.
Too bad I'll need to find someone else; you didn't satisfy my lust.

In your kitchen I run the water and wash my knife.
I think about your fragile ghost.
I remember the sound you made as you hit the floor from your fall.
I'm glad you're forever going to sleep.
I need to leave now so I can satisfy my lust.
As I leave I still smell your blood.

I'm on the hunt to quench my lust.
I'm on the hunt to find more blood.
I hope my next prey hasn't already fallen victim to sleep.
As I walk I breathe in the cold air of my favorite season; Autumn.
I pull my hand out of my pocket and stare at my sparklingly clean knife.
I can't help but think of your jealous I am of you; I wish so and to be nothing more than a ghost.

Through the window I can hear the pulse of your blood.
You sir, are about to have eternal sleep.
Maybe you will satisfy my lust.
I can't wait to see your ghost.
I can't wait to see you fall.
You're about to meet my knife.

I'm clumsy, and through your window I fall.
Give it back; you've taken my knife!
You're granted my wish; I'll be a ghost.
Thank you, Sir, for stopping my lust.
I feel it flowing out of me, soaking me; my hot , sticky blood.
Thank God I can finally get some sleep.

I'll go to sleep now and when I awaken I'll let you know what it's like to be a ghost.
It seems to be that only my blood was what could have ever cured my lust.
I love my knife. I love my fall.

I'm living in a
Static state-of-mind.
You're the antagonist
In this story
That has become
My strife.