I hate bad nights, especially because all the friends I would want to call to help go to bed pretty early, but at least they result in legit song lyrics.
La la la la boyfriend la la la la seeing friends, old and new la la la la gigs.
All you need in life, really.
Lyrics:
[Hokey and cheesy and cheery song]
It’s not about chains,
(Though sometimes it is),
Love’s about freedom,
To not choose mister or missus.
So do what you will,
I’ll support you no strings,
If you love someone else,
I’ll wish you good things.
———————
[Acoustic, melodic]
Lately I’ve been having dreams,
of maybes, possibilities,
a branching tree of could-bes,
of other lives and memories.
I’ve woken up to be mislead,
ripped out of a book I would have read,
until my head was not my head,
and my bed was not my bed.
In infinite dreamworlds,
I’m someone, somewhere else.
In infinite dreamworlds,
by morning my elsewheres melt.
Wouldn’t it be something,
if we could live in our heads?
Forget this life’s pain,
and forget how we’re dead?
————————-
I never dreamt before I met you,
I never dreamt that I’d meet you.
—————————
[Hardcore]
turn left, turn right,
count to ten, start a fight,
ten thousand marbles underneath my feet,
falling in love with every person on the street.
Fickle, I look everywhere at once.
Little, I lashed out at myself and shrunk.
Fucker, I hate myself,
and I love everybody else.
Stuck myself in a rut,
let myself run out of luck,
looked forward to waking up,
to rip my clothes off and slam my mind shut.
All those people I took advantage,
Pain spread like out an oak tree’s branches,
I filled the hole with sex and self-loathing,
to distract my heart while I poison it, smoking.
Fickle.
Little.
Fucker.
Fickle.
Little.
Fucker.
————————-
[Jaunty follow-up, again, cheesy and cheery, but sincere]
It’s not to say that I don’t believe love,
can possibly come from more people than one,
I’ve felt a thousand fingers,
stopped from rolling on marbles,
I’ve learned to see,
the beauty of people when they’re free.
I filled the hole and I was wrong,
My healing came through books and songs.
The bodies helped but I hurt too many,
I had to come back to myself eventually.
The shit that I’ve done I’ll take it all forward,
Be at peace with my hearts and turn my face sunward.
Looking Through the Liner Notes of Old Nirvana Albums
Physical representations of music are rare enough nowadays to be cherished.
People Confuse Hate and Activism Too Often.
Once is too often.
Seriously. Activism is not about getting angry and saying “fuck you!”. Activism is supposed to be about bringing about change. And no one ever responded to “fuck you!” with “yeah, you’re right”.
Logical and reasonable arguments, people. It’s easier to tune out screaming than it is to tune out well thought-out points.
