I started to write some music tonight, and when I got done with the rough draft, this grace potter song popped into my brain as I reread it.
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..although it seems I have to write the chord progressions before I write the lyrics, or.. the lyrics become too wordy, and difficult to express in typical verse bridge chorus formata taste...
He said I'd like to pour
a little more concrete
on these balloons
that still smell of dreams,
a taboo lore
of frequencies
a little too soon.
he said.. I suppose I should attempt to write during the day when everyone is gone since I am currently sitting on the master bathroom floor, afraid to play a chord audible over a whisper.so we whisper, some..written.. spoken word
Recently I've noticed
a sort of influx in redundancies. old habits, patiently forming new things, clouds that never, looked like anything are morphing their changing and becoming fogs, that cast more and more vast meaning. these net's have grown to encompass everything that the fates have seen. 3 women, toying relentlessly with the idea, that I cannot see what they know will come to be. It's a curious notion, this lock and key bound and woven, when we beg and plead, to know the answers, it usually turns out to be, not quite as we had planned it. although, as we know, the fates agreed. when the sun comes out the fog succeeds. (usually) and even if the fates hail rain we take it and learn it, we handle the pain because recently, i've noticed an old influx of new habits, and I can't quite see where the fates are taking me. but I can't ignore, that they've done this before; so, following mildly blindy I hope that these clouds, have somewhere else to be.. eventually.7:38 p.m. - 2011-09-22
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