There's only so much we're designed to handle
A limit to our strength, the capacity to survive
With a smile for every day and every occasion
Then when someone asks, "Hey friend, how have
Things been going for you, is all right with
Your world, and are you happy?"
It's hard to not struggle for breath
And reply with the straightest of faces
In a cheery tone of imperfect concealment
That life is nothing but bliss and contentment
No hassles at all, to plague or beleaguer
After some idle chit chat, a while of useless
Exchanges, crawl back home, home into bed
Bed and just cry, cry, cry
Because there's no drive, drive, drive
And all that's left to do
Is cry
Cry
Cry
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.