I had a friend who forgot his name
Not because he had the choice
But because he just wanted to escape
Block out the past and the present noise
One day he got a gun, loaded it up
With bullets he'd made from soldering lead
Held it in his right hand, a letter in left
Closed his eyes, lifted the gun to his head
[Story? That's the end.]
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.