And you walked in
Like you owned not the place
But the place that you’re in
And you sailed through
Like your heart pumped the waves
When the waves needed you
But now
Im not so sure
On these stories told
When you think you know more
And want less
As you grow old
I listen to the music
That attractive noise
I’ll listen to The Fall
To The Beach Boys
I listen to the music
So candid
Therapeutic
A stinging to my ears
So enjoyably caustic
I listen to the music
For instant nostalgia
Of where I was
Who with
Or when I found ya
I listen to the music
I love that drone
So finally I can sleep
Until the notes find home
I listen to the music
It conjures such love
Into my ears
Let it roll with a loose shove
I listen to the music
Feeling happy or stressed
I’ll listen when calm
Intoxicated
Badly dressed
I listen to the music
On various compilations
Those imperfect and personal
Golden-oldie stations
I listen to the music
Like a hit from the hits
I listen to the music
When the moment fits
I listen to the music
And here’s the chorus now
I’ll listen
Until the music’s over
… T’Pau!
The face in the dirt in the festivals field
Has always kept quiet, never been revealed
The face in the dirt prefers lying low.
Only appears where grass doesn’t show.
One eye is on the clouds, the other; passers-by.
Never communicates, doesn’t even try.
Drinks from beer spilt and other revolting fluid,
Gobbles dropped food out of view from a steward.
A peeping tom from experiments gone wrong,
The face; never has said cheerio, so long!
It may be under a tent, where someone’s sitting,
Under you’re porta-loo with the smells emitting.
Maybe it’s just enjoying the music, the atmosphere.
When you tell people, make that abundantly clear…
And have a nice time!
Sometimes —
In a world full of sirens and
clatter,
a perfectly timed silence,
that pause in the chatter,
speak louder
than those injected sounds of
violence.
I love repetition; I can really get into it.
I love repetition; I can really get into it.
I love repetition; I can rarely get out of it.
Repeat…
Everything feels supersized when highly meaningful,
when the sounds are resonating: orchestral.
When all we want to do is be on pause and to duplicate;
control our flickering flame;
make it dance continuously, on repeat, to keep a much needed mind-set.
The four of them sat waiting nervously: Average Man, 6th Sense Woman, The Vague, and Mr De’Ath.
Suddenly, over to their right, the one and only door swung inward; expelling pure white light bleaching them, equally. One by one, they stood and walked at half-speed into the overexposure; causing their bodies to be at first outlined, then dissolved and eaten hungrily by it.
As soon as they were no longer visible as the characters they resembled, the door behind them creaked in heavy, reverberating delay; closing ever-so-slowly. The room now settled into its own blank atmosphere once more, with only the sound of distant screams for its company.
I was in a band
I was in a band once
I played bass guitar
When I was in the band
I played the bass and sung
I sang once
When I was in the band
Did I tell you?
We nearly made it
The band
We got signed once
And I played the bass
We were on TV once
The band
I played the bass
We had… Ok, bye then
Speak to you later
I Eat Let.ers 