Shouldn't this give me the kick
It usually does, or is it not worth it?
Maybe it needs to be bigger, better
Anything, I'm just desperate to nick
A little something here, a small trinket
Just something to give along with this letter
My prescription for help, a desperation
Only a shrink can help cure, believe me
They'll get into my mind, tell me what's wrong
Perhaps provide me with some revelation
Help me know the depth of my deeds
And maybe, just for the laughs...
I'll write my story into a song.
[Hahaha. That kills me, it really does.]
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.