I think I'll lie
With my ear to the floor
And listen to the beats
That reverberate from
My speakers so small
And hope they can
Comfort me in all this
I'm so sick, chasing the
Feeling, dreaming with
A broken heart, and as I
Wait for the rain, the
New divide that spans
The width of my heart,
Day by day I'll look
For the shooting star
That seems so heartless
In its bids to evade me
I won't apologize for
All my false pretenses
But I still hope
You'll miss me when I'm gone
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.