Monday, April 27, 2009
Monday, April 20, 2009
Laura Marling-My Manic and I
He wants to die in a lake in Geneva, the mountains can cover the shape of his nose.
He wants to die where nobody can see him, but the beauty of his death will carry on so I don't believe him.
He greets me with kisses when good days deceive him and sometimes with scorn and sometimes I believe him.
And sometimes I'm convinced my friends think I am crazy, get scared and call him but he's usually hazy.
By one in the morning day is not ended by two he is scared that sleep is no friend.
And by four he will drink but he cannot feel it, sleep will not come because sleep does not will it and I don't believe him.
Morning is mocking me. I'll wander the streets avoiding them eats 'til the ring on my finger slips to the ground.
A gift to the gutter, gift to the city the veins of which have broken me down.
And I don't believe him, morning is mocking me. Oh the gods that he believes never fail to amaze me.
He believes in the love of his god of all things, but I find him wrapped up in all manner of sins.
The drugs that decieve him and the girls that believe him.
I can't control you I don't know you well these are the reasons I think that you're ill.
I can't control you I don't know you well these are the reasons I think that you're ill.
And since last have we parted and last that I saw him down by a river silent and hardened morning was mocking us.
Blood hit the sky. I was just happy my manic and I
He couldn't see me the sun was in his eyes and birds were singing to calm us down.
And birds were singing to calm us down.
And I'm sorry young man I cannot be your friend I don't believe in a fairytale end.
I don't keep my head up all of the time. I find it dull when my heart meets my mind.
And I hardly know you I think I can tell these are the reasons I think that we're ill.
I hardly know you I think I can tell these are the reasons I think that I'm ill.
And the gods that he believes never fail to disappoint me.
The gods that he believes never fail to disappoint me.
My nihilist, my happy man, my manic and I have no plans to move on.
The birds are singing to calm us down.
And birds are singing to calm us down.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
we wrapped ourselves inside a dirty blanket
citing different opinions
on whether we should move
when the houses came
they ate up everyone like they were fishes
saying, "come on, come on
its the end of the world"
and then I saw your face
you're turning skin into a dirty secret
I watched the beauties, watched the fire
and the fire burn the beauty in their eyes
when I took the blame
we layed in ruins trying to quote your phrase
we're yelling, "someone's got the answers,
but I'd rather think there's nothing to be found"
if you knew I was dying would it change you?
So when you see me falling backwards down the wall that says I'm still alive,
don't be cautious when I'm cautiously approaching on the other side
everybody has their reasons, that's the reason we're all going to die
because if seeing is believing,
then believe that we have lost our eyes
when I fly solo, I fly so high
don't touch me now.
We all deserve something"
