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Literature Text
Been thinking tonight.
I can still see out of my bloodshot eyes.
I can see out the window, at my horizon.
And I keep visioning,
I keep all of the things,
That I collect in my mind.
That only I can define.
Wondering,
Mixed with ponderings,
And the light that streams,
Onto the windowsill.
Been turning it round.
I can narrow it down, one or two things.
Or a trail of things, many things, all the things, spinning around.
And I keep visioning,
The times and memories and things,
That I collect in my mind.
That only I can define.
Wondering,
Leads to hopelessness,
And my phobia,
Waiting at the door.
With all excuses and blame,
Lined up for the midnight train,
Making their way elsewhere,
To trouble the world,
To cripple the lives,
To end the girl.
And I keep visioning,
I keep all of the things,
That I collect in my mind.
That only I can define.
Wondering,
Mixed with ponderings,
And the light that streams,
Onto the windowsill.
And I keep visioning,
The times and memories and things,
That I collect in my mind.
That only I can define.
Wondering,
Leads to hopelessness,
And my phobia,
Waiting at the door.
And I keep this tragedy,
The stir, the ground beneath me,
The song that I can't sing,
Unless I breathe the cure.
And I just can't sleep,
I keep remembering,
The times and memories and things,
That posess my cure.
I can still see out of my bloodshot eyes.
I can see out the window, at my horizon.
And I keep visioning,
I keep all of the things,
That I collect in my mind.
That only I can define.
Wondering,
Mixed with ponderings,
And the light that streams,
Onto the windowsill.
Been turning it round.
I can narrow it down, one or two things.
Or a trail of things, many things, all the things, spinning around.
And I keep visioning,
The times and memories and things,
That I collect in my mind.
That only I can define.
Wondering,
Leads to hopelessness,
And my phobia,
Waiting at the door.
With all excuses and blame,
Lined up for the midnight train,
Making their way elsewhere,
To trouble the world,
To cripple the lives,
To end the girl.
And I keep visioning,
I keep all of the things,
That I collect in my mind.
That only I can define.
Wondering,
Mixed with ponderings,
And the light that streams,
Onto the windowsill.
And I keep visioning,
The times and memories and things,
That I collect in my mind.
That only I can define.
Wondering,
Leads to hopelessness,
And my phobia,
Waiting at the door.
And I keep this tragedy,
The stir, the ground beneath me,
The song that I can't sing,
Unless I breathe the cure.
And I just can't sleep,
I keep remembering,
The times and memories and things,
That posess my cure.
I wrote this a while back, when I was feeling very... mellow. It was really late, and my eyes were definitely bloodshot. And I was thinking about how things completely change when it's 2:00 AM. You see things almost more philisophically. At least, for me.
I love the really slow rhythm here. It never really picks up, and when I recorded it, I found that my voice fits the chorus rather nicely. It's not always so accustomed. <3
I love the really slow rhythm here. It never really picks up, and when I recorded it, I found that my voice fits the chorus rather nicely. It's not always so accustomed. <3
© 2006 - 2024 Luzille
Comments2
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Oooh... I'm using that too...
"Wondering,
Leads to hopelessness,
And my phobia,
Waiting at the door."
I <3 this part....
and you. <3
"Wondering,
Leads to hopelessness,
And my phobia,
Waiting at the door."
I <3 this part....
and you. <3