You came back, minus the feeling, Locked lips, but I’m still reeling, From the last time you painted me red and ran away.
Sleep now, there’s no use praying, If you don’t believe in the monsters you’re praising, I’ll find a better use of your time.
It’s not the same, We need to find a different way to escape the pain, Believe me dear, I wouldn’t be here if we had nothing to fear.
Doctor, prescribe me something, To numb the pain of a lifeless lover, I’ll take anything to stop my heart from beating for her.
Gravity, I miss your grounded sensibility, You kept my aspirations safely tucked away, In place of settling.
What should I succumb to? Dignity or love? And more importantly, What did I do to deserve this, honey? You’re painting pictures of the paradox I’ve seen with my own eyes, That’s kinda futile don’t you think? Just like everything.
It’s not hard to change a man, Just show him how small he really is, But if that change was for the better, Then what the **** is this?
In the dark of the Picture Palace, You taught me how to live, And to the music of the closing credits, You left me in a mess, And the flickering at the end of the roll, Leaves me dreading the lonely walk back home, And so in the dark of the Picture Palace, We live.
Racing to the top of the amphitheatre, We go rolling down the decline, The grass stains on our sweaters, We said we’d never clean, The drop in my stomach as I hit the rock, The pain of the fall, and the joy of the walk, At the bottom of the amphitheatre, We live.
Are we living in colour now? Everything's drenched in sepia, Layers upon layers of sunkissed skin, Come peeling off, you’re free again.
Bleeding from the fast-rotting River Gums, Is the truth you hid all those years ago, The branches will quiver with every gust, But your alibi, it must die, It must.
I know you want to go to a country where it snows, But you can’t. The solace that you seek, it will only make you weak, It will only make you weak. If we go swimming in the rip, We cannot blame it for the white lies on our lips.
Are we living in colour now? We painted this whole ****ing river brown, I’ll burn every bridge in this island dear, I’ll be stranded forever beside you here.
Do you really want to pack it in again? There’s no use changing, It won’t change them.
You’ve led me astray again, Congratulations on all you’ve failed to believe in, Heinous images, You’ve forced upon me with full knowledge of my weakness, You’re killing me, You’re killing me.
You never let me in, And now the bite of the cold air is eating away at my fingers, I see you watching over me, With such contempt, But the truth is I know all of your secrets, You’re killing me, You’re killing me.
The flood is raging in, Past the walls you erected to keep us dry, So I turn myself in, They force you down my throat, And I drink the wine, You’re killing me, You’re killing me.
I remember every country town, We went to escape the routine of the metropolis, But we let ourselves drown, In the comfort we derived from each other’s presence, You’re killing me, You’re killing me.
Nobody really thought it was true, The stain glass, We bought it for you, Did you really think it was true?
I tied up my hands, So the only thing flowing through them is you, But such drastic change is permanent, And I’d hate to give my life for a culture so untrue, You’re killing me, You’re killing me.
You seem so comfortable, Wearing every last conviction on your chest, But the aching inside of you is infectious, You’re killing me, You’re killing me.
Freedom, It’s everything to me, Yet I adhere so violently, What does it really mean to be free?
I really like this. Especially the last two lines.
Does the capitalisation of "You" imply that the poem is directed at a deity? I can't seem to grasp it since in the third line, God is referred to in third person. Or am I just reading into it too much?
My only bone to pick is with the line "A glitch in God's programming". It just seems so disassociated (in language, not in subject) with the rest of the poem. But maybe that's just me.
Time served to prove me wrong again, The years that I have spent searching and stumbling over you. But my patience is wasted on someone so wrong about everything, Yet I still follow you home.
And I’ve never been this far.
My conscience is bleeding internally, Dying eternally, Drowning in the pleasantries of the night, And all the while I wait. But we still go dancing all night at the cemetery, The candlelight vigils held by the townsfolk are humbling, Affecting, And gratifying you and me.
And I’ve never been this far from anything.
When the air dripping out the gap in your lips trickles down my neck, I feel at ease.
Thanks for the feedback. Glad you enjoyed it. The line “The women, they come and go, Talking of Michelangelo” was actually lifted from a poem by T.S. Eliot (hence the quotation marks). I just felt like it fitted in with the idea of the piece nicely, and works well as a chorus in the arrangement that I have for the song.
I really, really like this. It's not exactly the most complex of pieces but it's really potent in its message and I respect that. I love the recurrence of the line "Guess I don’t care much any more", especially since it holds a very different sentiment the second time.
My only criticism:
In line for my coffee (They’d better get it right) I notice pretty eyes behind a mocha Sitting in the corner like a sweet memory
Good stanza, but that simile just kills it for me. A sweet memory doesn't sit in a corner... Perhaps rephrase it as "A sweet memory sitting in the corner like a _______ (something that actually sits in a corner)"
You sit in silence on the passenger seat, I pull out of my parking space on 17th floor, The tension could be cut with cutlery, And my body aches with too many syllables.
I examine the myriad scars on your cheeks, The maze of imperfections leads me directly to your eyes, And the tears that stream so elegantly down your face, Fill the creases left by the time we wasted.
Autumn, You bemuse me so I run away, But we meet again as seasons change, Autumn I can never escape.
Home is where you left your heart and demolished mine, And now these hallways reek of distant times and memories, You repaint the walls, but you won’t knock them down, They will be forever embellished with me.
Light the torches, Praise the crosses, We’ll never bring you down, Until we burn the torches, burn the crosses, Burn your house to the ground.
I agree. I had to do an assignment on a charity and it turned out that around 70% of donations actually went towards aid. The other 30% was spent on advertising and administration.
But without that 30% spent on advertisement, the overall amount of money the charity receives would be much less, causing even less money to go towards aid. Advertisement is a means of generating more money, and when it comes to a charity, that's always a positive.