kyle
05-03-2005, 02:35 PM
This took me a few days to accomplish, with this one song on repeat everytime I sat down to write this. Haha. Hopefully you all enjoy?
I've finally come to terms with this.
This blank piece of paper is my dry canvas
calling out my name, screaming at the top
of its lungs for me to tickle the tops of these
blue lines with something that comes from the
heart, and mind, and the soul, down my arm,
into my hand, through my finger tips, and finally
out the sharpest point of my pen filled up with
black ink.
Think hard about the littlest things we do and take
for granted and try and make it vivid as hell.
They couldn't do it, could they?
I guess this would be their cue to say I
am demented.
Question my santity.
Be my guest.
In retrospect you were always the one with your chest
hanging out but quik to deny that you're a whore.
Theses words...I stole them from some brilliant writer
with an artistic mind, heart and soul.
I came up from behind and thrusted my knife
into his neck.
He lost his footing, fell down, and died with these words
in his book.
I just changed the name and took credit for something
I couldn't accomplish even if I tried.
Their...Now I am just like you. (A liar)
When the pretty music starts to play I'll go
into the open and waiting arms of my wife and
you'll have to settle for the shitty streets of 25th and Valley.
Your bestfriend is a rat named Fernando and your
neighbor in the box next door to yours doesn't even
trust you. (Burn bridges sweetheart)
Learn a lesson?
I doubt it pal.
Abuse every power you had then and end up here
now.
The streets are not a friendly place for a greedy
bastard like yourself.
Just remember to think of my wife and I when
you're eating out of trashcans and stealing from the
store.
Look hard, inbetween the almost invisible lines
and you'll learn it wasn't a fashion show.
Looks don't determine success.
How dare you!
How dare you!
(Pretend, pretend! Quik! Before they realize your failures.)
I've finally come to terms with this.
This blank piece of paper is my dry canvas
calling out my name, screaming at the top
of its lungs for me to tickle the tops of these
blue lines with something that comes from the
heart, and mind, and the soul, down my arm,
into my hand, through my finger tips, and finally
out the sharpest point of my pen filled up with
black ink.
Think hard about the littlest things we do and take
for granted and try and make it vivid as hell.
They couldn't do it, could they?
I guess this would be their cue to say I
am demented.
Question my santity.
Be my guest.
In retrospect you were always the one with your chest
hanging out but quik to deny that you're a whore.
Theses words...I stole them from some brilliant writer
with an artistic mind, heart and soul.
I came up from behind and thrusted my knife
into his neck.
He lost his footing, fell down, and died with these words
in his book.
I just changed the name and took credit for something
I couldn't accomplish even if I tried.
Their...Now I am just like you. (A liar)
When the pretty music starts to play I'll go
into the open and waiting arms of my wife and
you'll have to settle for the shitty streets of 25th and Valley.
Your bestfriend is a rat named Fernando and your
neighbor in the box next door to yours doesn't even
trust you. (Burn bridges sweetheart)
Learn a lesson?
I doubt it pal.
Abuse every power you had then and end up here
now.
The streets are not a friendly place for a greedy
bastard like yourself.
Just remember to think of my wife and I when
you're eating out of trashcans and stealing from the
store.
Look hard, inbetween the almost invisible lines
and you'll learn it wasn't a fashion show.
Looks don't determine success.
How dare you!
How dare you!
(Pretend, pretend! Quik! Before they realize your failures.)