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02-22-2009, 10:12 PM | #1 (permalink) |
Music Addict
Join Date: Feb 2009
Posts: 48
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Naked's Songwriting Journal
Edit: Skip to page 4 for revised versions of all songs but this one and "The Veteran's Show"
I wrote this with a dream girl in mind, but each verse describes a different experience I've had. The music is written, but not recorded, so just imagine it being sung relatively fast and playfully. It's my first song I've posted here. That being said, don't go easy with criticism. How could I really know you? We mostly talked with fingers but we would write all the night through When we got together, you weren't allowed to linger So we ran as wildfires burned our tracks! You're breath tastes so new, When I kiss you I feel naive Even though I teach you To be friendly when we pollute my garage and careful not to burn the flowers there whose roots we grind up and put in envelopes! I tell you that I love you, And you tell me I am cliche but my mouth is stitched and glued, unless I borrow from fairy tales But you untangle my words before get to Say them in my peculiar way that frays the ears of people who ignore cries of wolf by day and believe witches trick children We sit on roofs of my childhood, Where rooms below I learned to read and be polite while you were in another neighborhood, with houses wound much to tight. Now you teach me which fruit is ripe for the picking, and not to steal what's not ready to be eaten Will will watch as cinders erupt in each others eyes The heat will char my lungs, and melt the joints of my spine with my teeth fused to my tongue I cry, You're all i really know about life! Last edited by Naked; 05-20-2009 at 10:02 PM. |
05-20-2009, 09:55 PM | #2 (permalink) |
Music Addict
Join Date: Feb 2009
Posts: 48
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The Hollow Child
He can cry, but he's not alive yet caught in a net of his mother's insides, larger than the horse he rides his body grown to the form of the cave where he abides, he may exist forever here but he wants life! Kick out her stomach, cut the rope that ached your wrists and hung you from her first breathe with your own lungs, taste with your own tongue it's time for our teeth to come in The newly born sleeps in his prison blind to the sun that glares through wood bars, burning the fuel in the scars that cover his flailing arms Gripping the sacred star, made from feathers and tar he only feels mud and whips so he lives in his mind! So he watches the fences take flight links unwind and turn to kites, the strings hang from the night for him to catch and find, his sight is not bound by his eyes Carry your legs, away from the beggars who crawl on their backs and follow your heart as it expands hold it in your hands and swear to never be a man |
05-21-2009, 12:58 PM | #3 (permalink) |
myspace.com/stonebirdies
Join Date: Apr 2009
Location: Conor Oberst Was/is Here
Posts: 1,401
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there's only one page?
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05-24-2009, 03:21 PM | #5 (permalink) |
Music Addict
Join Date: Feb 2009
Posts: 48
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Untitled (For Now)
His ears have sunk back into his skull to escape the cracks and whistles of exploding men, careless with their eroding limbs hoping for memorial films and singing blasphemous hymns to comfort him as he breathes in porcelain His wounds are patched, with his comrades skin, harvested to match the bandages that stretch from his soul to his chin and disguise him like the waves of bleeding mannequins, displaying the future war fashions decorated by the televisions that flicker and flash across his eyelids he will never sleep though shots extinguished the sun so he sucks the powder from his gun and his stomach becomes a dormant volcano until he finds a match to swallow, and his body erupts at the pores hollowing out the hospital and so he betrays his sons who march to military horns commiting acts of treason even during birth |
06-04-2009, 09:31 AM | #6 (permalink) |
Music Addict
Join Date: Feb 2009
Posts: 48
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Before she had a name,
she had sculpted her face to not look quite the same as the children who lay quiet, their eyes sewn with lace As a boy he was bald his hair strung on his guitar that he played for the stars he followed as he roamed his feet moving to the metrenomes in his fingers she molded her brain from her dead mother's clay covered in ink blot stains that form pictures of all she thinks for her to display he plays the music he loves and he loves all that he hears his brain works through his ears, that transmit radio waves and send them coursing through the veins of his soul They met in a house of tin and she painted his skin while he taught her a hymn they don't sing in church and he showed her the pencil in this throat, and she took it and drew a boat, that they sailed across the moat of the castle they both knew was home And now his music fills the walls and her art hangs in bathroom stalls and they love doing anything at all _________________________________ |
06-04-2009, 09:34 AM | #7 (permalink) | |
Account Disabled
Join Date: Feb 2009
Location: lorain,ohio
Posts: 909
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Quote:
Change this whole thing mate. It's just not workin for me. |
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