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vixaliciousUm, ok. Why I feel so much weirder about posting this than I would anything else I wrote, I don't know. I want to lock it down, not open it to the world and that's so not what I generally do here in my tiny corner of the internet. But um. Here. *flails*
Okay, so I've probably waxed on and on before about how I think that music is our era's poetry, and I know I've gone on about how amazed I am by songwriters and their ability to put so much story and emotion into so few words. I don't try it often, because I don't think it's my talent, but of course I am explaining this to you because I have in fact tried again. This has been coming to me for the last week or so, and I'm proud of it for a couple of reasons. The main one is that it is the first time I have written anything so clearly (to me) NOT about what the words are saying. I don't think it's as hidden as "Jumper" (because really? Masturbation? Really?) but it is a step forward for me. It was inspired by a bedtime story I was telling myself. Welcome to the inside of my head.
WARNING: I AM NOT A MUSICIAN NOR DO I PLAY ONE ON TV.
That said:
Title: Defective
this sticky slide of dread
right down my spine
tells me i'm not wrong
this time is the last
the ending of our song
this death, our love, our innocence
this death, our time, our lack of sense
what ego, what hubris,
to think that we could ever do this
defective
i can feel the falling
how i'm losing
this piece of you inside me
hollow, carved away
exposed for the whole world to see
this death, our love, our innocence
this death, our time, our lack of sense
what ego, what hubris,
to think that we could ever do this
defective, defective
how can something you didn't even
know you wanted
be the worst thing
you ever lost
the last refrain, the invective,
we are, we are
defective
Okay, so I've probably waxed on and on before about how I think that music is our era's poetry, and I know I've gone on about how amazed I am by songwriters and their ability to put so much story and emotion into so few words. I don't try it often, because I don't think it's my talent, but of course I am explaining this to you because I have in fact tried again. This has been coming to me for the last week or so, and I'm proud of it for a couple of reasons. The main one is that it is the first time I have written anything so clearly (to me) NOT about what the words are saying. I don't think it's as hidden as "Jumper" (because really? Masturbation? Really?) but it is a step forward for me. It was inspired by a bedtime story I was telling myself. Welcome to the inside of my head.
WARNING: I AM NOT A MUSICIAN NOR DO I PLAY ONE ON TV.
That said:
Title: Defective
©Beth Lacey 2008
this sticky slide of dread
right down my spine
tells me i'm not wrong
this time is the last
the ending of our song
this death, our love, our innocence
this death, our time, our lack of sense
what ego, what hubris,
to think that we could ever do this
defective
i can feel the falling
how i'm losing
this piece of you inside me
hollow, carved away
exposed for the whole world to see
this death, our love, our innocence
this death, our time, our lack of sense
what ego, what hubris,
to think that we could ever do this
defective, defective
how can something you didn't even
know you wanted
be the worst thing
you ever lost
the last refrain, the invective,
we are, we are
defective
