Between the lines
Of every lyric
Within the hidden
Mysteries, subliminal
Messages and rhymes
Where the only critic
Is a forbidden
Criss cross, criminal
In act, yet a sign
A mark of a hypocrite
Constantly kidding
Himself that the minimal
Penance is a lifetime
Where he can mimic
Whilst remain bed ridden
Play make believe, that he's finished the search finally, for
Someone?
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.