out, damned spot.

so many pretty young things, all straight off to hell,
what a pity to watch when it all started so well.

there is a grander scheme at work that mine, but whats the fuss?whats the fuss?
improvisation, guessing not knowing, learning and growing is the way they get by.
and i've become one of those words that you repeat till the meaning is gone, over and over and over.

the truth will out and the lies will shout their tales from the rooftops.

Baby, it's a massacre, and you.ve got blood on your idle hands.

waiting on the corner

There'll be a moment when you're dancing with three of your closest friends on an almost empty dancefloor at a birthday party. You look at them with their eyes closed, smiling to themselves and to each other, and to you and moving with the music, mouthing the words. And the light is right, and the mood is high. And you think to yourself: this is IT, this is life. This is MY life...i'm 22 and i'm living it, and this is one of the moments i''ll never forget. Or you'll be sitting outside under a perfect late afternoon Febuary sky, with big fat white clouds dancing around over your head. And the air is warm, it even smells warm. And you watch the people as they walk by, lost in the importance of some internal monologue. And you feel like youre underwater, and if you move even just a fraction of an inch from where youre sitting, drinking in the world, you'll wreck it. And the shadows are stretching, and the light is gold. And it really doesnt seem like there could be such things as broken hearts or bones or promises. And you think to yourself;this is another one of those moments...this is why I dry my eyes and crack a smile.

volition

it occourred to me, that maybe

when i touched you, i was touching the concept of home and the life i had before i left.
when i held you, i was holding my highest hopes and dearest wishes.
and when i kissed you, i was kissing the mountain and the sea, and possibility.

it occourred to me.

stranger things have happened.

go, greased lightening.

young hearts can take much more, worship at the temple of the dirty dance floor.
the cold-mouthed kisses, the cold shoulder hit and misses didn't amount to much at all.
but then, it seems, neither did you, or me, or us.
what are you waiting for? dance like you've never danced before.

just write me a song, then i'll know that it's you, and we can get that feeling going, get the winds of change a' blowing.
and the world can close it's eyes to my heart's demise, one more time.
are you listening?
close your eyes, and open your hands...breathe in that fresh sentiment, cos it don't stay fresh for long.
it's the price of our lives, the wax in our wings. it's the climb that gets us high, but it's the fall that makes our blood sing.

when the people you loved, become the people you love to hate, you know something has got to give.
when all the pleasure is laced with pain, you know it's all gone terribly wrong.

i'm going to get my kicks, while i'm still young enough to get them.