For a little while there used to be
A pill that was prescribed for little kamikaze me
I'd leap off a building, crush my head
Then my meds would kick in, bring me back from the dead
I'm not complaining here, but it's a bit of a pain
When you're trying to kill yourself in front of a train
All the effort that's taken, to leap right in front
Only to survive to see you're a minor speed bump
So now I'm stuck here, at the bottom of the sea
Trying to drown little kamikaze me
An anchor on one foot, lead weight on the other
Getting sick of the fish telling me not to bother
[It's a bit sadistically fun isn't it?]
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.