Friday, April 09, 2004

I Wish They Were My Words

With my back to the wall you've somehow pinned me up against.
Fingernails in the palms of these tightly clenched fists.
And I'm somewhere in between a held tongue and a curse.
Or I could keep it inside, and hide it.
In hopes my avoidance will cure it.
But there's no time for this.

So light it up and let it fly away.
A Molotov Cocktail, my dreams symbolized in flames.

Put your back to them all, I swear they're not getting you there.
A blueprint for the outside, when it's cold out there.
It's not clear, but I refuse to breathe from these machines again.
You all depend on the filters that keep you away
From the pain when you cry, and the praises you sang.
It's not real so I refuse to breathe from these machines again.

So light it up and let it fly away.
A Molotov Cocktail, my dreams symbolized in flames.
And I won't ask a lot from you, I just pray that the masks will come unglued.

I hope I can be with you soon.

So light it up and let it fly away.
A Molotov Cocktail, my dreams symbolized in flames.
And I won't ask a lot from you, I just pray that the masks will come unglued.

And this routine feels like a knife, entering my back then down my spine.
I've withstood the sting for long enough, and I'm prepared to discard it.
So light it up and let it go away. So light it up and let it fly away.

Fly away.

Sometimes it’s easier to let other people’s writings express what you feel. I know I often have a hard time truly articulating what I feel. I never have an easy time wrapping my head around what I feel well enough to be able to translate those feelings into words, let alone elegant and symbolic poetry. The above is by one of my favorite bands, Dead Poetic. It’s entitled “Molotov”. As I was listening to the cd this morning that song, along with one other, really related to me. I felt a connection to what was being sung. Somehow what I was listening to expressed what I wanted to say but couldn’t figure out how.

I’m sure that the way I interpret what they write is different than how they intended it, but that is the beauty of music and poetry—their format lends themselves to illuminating different responses in different people. Heck, I could probably relate to the same song in completely different ways depending upon the situation I’m in. Life is wonderfully fluid like that. That fluidity also helps keep me sane when things don’t go my way.

I have a hard time accepting when things don’t happen as I want them to. Sometimes I’ll be a mopey brat about it too. What brings me out of that bratty slump is usually the realization that something good will happen down the road. Maybe not right at that moment, but eventually I’d hope something went my way.

Hmmm…I guess I don’t really know where I was going with this today. Must be because it’s Friday or something. Wow, it is Friday already. This week flew by. Anyhow, I’ll end today’s post with another Dead Poetic song, “Bury the Difference.” I really wish I had the talent to express myself as eloquently as so many of the gifted writers that are out there…

Bury all the differences between us. When I still can't find the air,
You keep the toxins flowing for me,
And I'll bury all the differences between us.
And I still can't help but care for moving mountains,
But your, your head's held high again.

You will find me out. You will find everything.
We all, we just battle ourselves. We just battle ourselves again.

Bury all the differences between us, that same mechanical sound.
That keeps on ringing for days and days.
And you're standing like a clueless titan.
And everything around falls right down on you.
With your head held high again.

You will find me out. You will find everything.
We all, we just battle ourselves. We just battle ourselves again.

And there's a storm cloud waiting over,
On the land that's sinking
At the bottom of these buildings again.
With your head held high again.

You will find me out. You will find everything.
We all, we just battle ourselves. We just battle ourselves again.

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