What dreams have become
Made of, we define them
With our deeds and wealth
Monumental disregard
For disregarded monuments
Broken, breaking, blending
In with bleak surroundings
Crumbling now in ages new
Ignoring all that we were
Distracted by what we have
Become, are becoming
Will be tomorrow and the
Days to follow
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.