All I seem to want
Is make myself feel
Like she needs someone else
She would want anyone
But me, myself and I
And I'll lay another record
On the twisting turntable
That plays a lonely melody
Consoling me into sleep
Walking away, put on a happy front
Don't let her steal
My dignity from myself
I'll fool everyone
But me, myself and I
And I'll place a final record
On the broken turntable
Straining out a melody
Robbing me of sleep
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.