#1
This is not one of my greatest pieces and I know that. It has a short but interesting (ha!) story behind it's creation. I wanted to know exactly what myrrh was so I opened the dictionary, found what I was looking for, then discovered that every time I've heard the word being spoken, it was pronounced wrongly. So I thought I'd write a song that I could use the correct pronunciation, and I created this.

This song cuts from observations to thought to feelings and back again, so it may not run completely smoothly but I have an idea of what it is meant to be in my head. This is the first of seven songs I wrote on Wednesday. Together, they all took less than forty minutes to complete.


Oh how nice it would be
To feel the sun on my skin again
But that feeling I can only process in my head

Oh how nice it would be
To feel a love that feeds my soul
But I?m left with this unfillable hole

And I can smell it in the air
The sweet scent of myrrh
But it brings me despair
For I will never know where it comes from

I can taste it in the drinking water
And the rain brings its pitter-patter
Rhythmically on the window of my room

I can feel it overpowering me
I can feel the madness of this disease

Oh how nice it would be
To feel the sun on my skin again
But that feeling I can only process in my head

Tomorrow seems so far away
I celebrate each time I reach that day
A milestone others take for granted
But I?m haunted
Haunted by what might?ve been

The rose is wilting in the vase
I can?t see the light through the dirty glass

Ten years and I?m fed up
Holding an empty cup
That once held the medium of life

Smiling faces staring at me
Tears masking a mystery
The light in their eyes is almost gone
I?m sick and tired; my breath?s drawn long

I can feel it overpowering me
I can feel the madness of this disease
Like a thousand blooming flowers in a summer pasture
Keeping me hidden in my velure

I can smell it in the air
The fetor of death
It is not like my myrrh

Oh how nice it would be
To feel the sun on my skin again
But that feeling I can only process in my head

Oh how nice it would be
To sit outside and watch the moon
Floating elegantly ?cross the cosmic pool
Disturbing the silent burning stars

Oh how nice it would be
To swim in the briny sea
And become a different mystery
Than what I have become
And what I?ll be until my final breath
When I feel the touch of the hand of Doctor Death
#2
Re-write the first half is the conclusion i came up with from this; it seems so seperate in class... honestly. When you say it's not your best, only half of that is true. You know that you messed up but i don't think you realised where; i'm hoping what i said will help.

To be quite honest, scrap pretty much all of the first half but the second half is brilliant, very good indeed.

Can you look at my latest for me Mike? Greatly appreciated.
#3
Cheers, although may I ask how they differ? I'm just curious, I'm not having a go or anything (I'm saving that up in case of a meltdown in the Souls thread).