My Long song

Displays of original artwork, handicrafts, musings and other talents

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My Long song

Postby Rao » Thu Feb 12, 2004 4:36 am

I have a friend,
he is made mostly of pain.
He wakes up, drives to work,
and then straight back home again.

He once cut one of my nightmares out of paper.
I thought it was beautiful,
I put it on a record cover.
And I tried to tell him he had a sense of color

and composition so magnificent.
And he said "Thank you,
please but your flattery is truly not becoming me.
Your eyes are poor. You are blind.

You see,
no beauty could have come from me.
I am a waste of breath, of space, of time."
I knew a woman, she was dignified and true.
Her love for her man was one of her many virtues.
Until one day,

she found out that he had lied
and decided the rest of her life,
from that point on would be a lie.

But she was grateful for everything that had happened.
And she was anxious for all that would come next.
But then she wept.
What did you expect?

In that big,
old house with all those cars she kept.
"Oh!" and "such is life,"
she often said.

With one day leading her to the next,
you get a little closer to your death,
which was fine with her. She never got upset
and with all the days she may have left,

she would never clean
another mess or fold his shirts
or look her best.
She was free to waste away alone.

Last night,
my brother he got drunk and drove.
And this cop pulled him off to the side of the road.

And he said, "Officer! Officer!
You have got the wrong man.
No, no, I'm a student of medicine,
the son of a banker, you don't understand!"

The cop said,
"No one got hurt, you should be thankful.
And you carelessness,
it is something awful.

And no,
I can't just let you go.
And though your father's name is known,
your decisions are yours alone.

You are nothing
but a stepping stone on a path to debt,
to loss,
to shame."

The last few months
I have been living with this couple.
Yeah, you know, the kind that buy everything in doubles.
They fit together, like a puzzle.

I love their love and I am thankful that someone
actually receives the prize
that was promised by all those fairy tales that drugged us.
And they still do me.

I'm sick,
no laurel tree,
just green envy.

Will my number come up eventually?
Like Love is some kind of lottery,
where you can scratch
and see what is underneath.

It's "Sorry", just one cherry,
"Play Again."
Get lucky.
So I have been hanging out down by the train's depot.

No, I don't ride.
I just sit and watch the people there.
They remind me of wind up cars in motion.
The way they spin and turn and jockey for positions.

And I want to scream out that it is all nonsense.
And that their lives are one track,
and can't they see how it is all pointless?
But then, my knees give under me.

My head feels weak
and suddenly it is clear
to see that it is not them but me,
who has lost my self-identity.

As I hide behind these books I read,
while scribbling my poetry,
like art could save a wretch like me,
with some ideal ideology that no one can hope to achieve.

And I am never real;
it is just a sketch of me.
And everything I have is trite
and cheap and a waste of paint, of tape, of time.

Sometimes I park my car down
by the cathedral,
where floodlights point up at the steeples.
Choir practice is filling up with people.

I hear the sound escaping as an echo.
Sloping off the ceiling at an angle.
When voices blend they sound like angels.
I hope there is still some room left in the middle.

But when I lift my voice up now to reach them.
The range is too high, way up in heaven.
So I hold my tongue, forget the song,
tie my shoe and start walking off.

And try to just keep moving on,
with my broken heart and
my absent God and I have no faith
but it is all I want, to be loved and believe in my soul.

This song is 14 mintues long
Tell the Spartans, Stranger passing by,
That here, Obedient to their laws, We lie,
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Postby ChatOmbre » Thu Feb 12, 2004 5:20 am

Queen of the PointyShiney

"Too much ink is drawn to describe and define love. Why describe it and define it? Take my hand and let's just take a ride through it. Love is... Love is... Let's just go for awhile, leaving ourselves for each other." --Mike Smith
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Postby Murphy » Thu Feb 12, 2004 10:38 am

:bow 's before Rao, i like it ^^
Sir. Foolishness!
visit our webcomic! (oh yeah it's currently, dead, deeead)
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Postby Wolfie » Thu Feb 12, 2004 8:08 pm

I love it :)
ЀA†H comes like £iƒε,
sometimes forced and unwanted and sometimes loved and longed for.
How will you Ði€?™
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Postby chaotic century » Fri Feb 13, 2004 3:33 pm

wow thats long! but i like it n i would love to listen to it for 14 minutes (lol i have nothing better to do)
I am Chaotic Century King of the PointyShiney!
"this world is made of! this world is made of.. LOVE and PEACE!

neero is my master

it is foolish to listen to someone who will not listen to you
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Postby Dracofrost » Fri Feb 13, 2004 9:27 pm

It looks to be a great song Rao. I wonder how long til it'll be available for sale... Cause I'd buy the CD, even with shipping charges to get it down here to texas.
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Postby Seraph » Sat Feb 14, 2004 2:22 am

heck ya 14 minutes!!
ya know he great part? if you read it to someone who truly loves you, they'll remember alomst all of it, its so suprising =)
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Postby Rao » Sat Feb 14, 2004 3:58 am

Yes, 14 minutes of guitar strumming. Nothing else beats it.
Tell the Spartans, Stranger passing by,
That here, Obedient to their laws, We lie,
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