I have a story of who I was, am and will be to tell
Odds are that it probably won't ever sell
Not to the public, no time and no interest there
No one's concerned with what I have to share
I'll write for me, and I'll write for this
The moments that hit me, and those that missed
Drop my family a line, those I love so much
And for those who've passed, now cold to the touch
Remember with a smile, the visions and images
Those with hope for more on their visages
It's a different world we live in, even though I'm still young
Many of us have seen enough for our soundtrack to be sung
So don't forget the words that are so softly spoken
Try to survive, don't ever become one of the broken
It's still the beginning, not the start of the end
Hopefully when we survive, there'll be time to heal and mend.
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.