Scrawled on a scrap a paper
Sliver of a whispered secret
Smokey as haze, the tear's vapour
Sighing with the weight of a heartbeat
Step into the sky, words be your stairs
Swirling higher, higher till clouds
Stain my sight, hiding disrepair
Still walking onwards, in silence so loud
As every moment creates a life
Another passes on, clinging desperately
Angst fighting its way slowly through strife
Awash with thoughts only you knew could be
At the peak of realisation is reached
Acidic memories melt away every sorrow
Abused, beaten, till the doors are breached
Again you fall, awaking in yesterday's tomorrow
Studio B
- Mark
- When you need to wake up in the morning, and set the right mood for the day, when you need to escape from the overwhelming everything of life. What do you turn to? How do you describe your core without speaking aloud, without having to talk to someone about it? This is how. Music. Lyrics. Poetry. Do you feel it? Do you? It's here, it's everywhere, locked within you, within the most tone deaf of us. It's begging to be released, become unleashed in a tearing chord, a crying melody, soulful harmony, dying lyric. You feel it yet? It's concealed here, within every word that I write. This is my release. I want you to see it, to feel it with me. This pure expression of every tangible and imaginable emotion known and unknown to man. To me. Welcome to The Window.