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I’m looking out my window at the city below.
I see rooftops, raindrops, grafetti and hazy lights.
I see the soft glow from behind closed curtains.
I wonder, what are you dreaming of tonight?
Who is on your mind, love?
I’m looking out my window at the city below.
I see rooftops, raindrops, grafetti and hazy lights.
I see the soft glow from behind closed curtains.
I wonder, what are you dreaming of tonight?
Who is on your mind, love?
An envelope closing in.
Shards of broken glass.
In my mouth. Rolling across my tongue.
I taste blood.
I know you don't remember but I do.
That's life that's what people say You're riding high in April Shot down in May But I know I'm gonna change that tune When I'm back on top, back on top in June
I said, that's life and as funny as it may seem Some people get their kicks Stompin' on a dream But I don't let it, let it get me down 'Cause this fine old world it keeps spinnin' around
I've been a puppet, a pauper, a pirate A poet, a pawn and a king I've been up and down and over and out And I know one thing Each time I find myself flat on my face I pick myself up and get back in the race
That's life I tell ya, I can't deny it I thought of quitting, baby But my heart just ain't gonna buy it And if I didn't think it was worth one single try I'd jump right on a big bird and then I'd fly
To watch someone so entranced in the beauty of their work is a wonderful thing. The bubble is so delicate that if you placed a finger on its skin it would burst, leaving an effervescent circle of magic that changes you forever.
Who are your people?
For a while I thought I was traditional. If you follow the rules you will get there. Except no one knows what “there” is. I suspect that for everyone it's different.
So when you don't know, and life becomes so staid you begin to wonder why you were even put on this earth; you do what any red-blooded American does and blow up your life.
Sometimes you wonder if it's worth it. For a while everything is so different it feels like your synapses are on fire every second and there's no way to appease them. Eventually there comes a time when you can let your brain wander. That's when you know, and the fire flames into golden embers.
It's a world of makers and challengers. It's for people unafraid to keep breathing.
Fly away.
There's a place for us.
She touched the bruise tentatively. It was bulging slightly from the vein in her foot and she grimaced as she placed the ice across her skin. Yesterday she passed the 14 mile marker with no problem and felt triumphant as she felt the gravel crunch beneath her muddy trail runners. She always hated perfectly clean shoes. It felt like sacrilege; a travesty to the sweat that dripped down her forehead, the blood that oozed from the scratches on her arms and the constriction in her lungs as she pushed up the mountain.
Two hours and 46 minutes later she was rewarded with a view that stretched 360 degrees above the pine trees and cloud cover. It was hard to believe that just over six months ago they told her she wouldn't live past March.
This is what success looks like, she thought to herself.
Is it weird that country music is like my meditation?
Sometimes I'm in the mood for classical; those beautiful string sounds and piano keys...
Other times I want to hear the guitar riffs and slow beats...
Men singing about love and summertime.
Six and nine.
She tapped her pen against her forehead.
Staccato.
They said if you want to be a writer, you write.
So she did.
I don't know what I'd do without my music. Every song I listen to is a timeline of my life. A moment. An hour. A second. I will never get it back but I will always remember. I am here, now. Close my eyes and bring it back. The beat. The chorus. The melody. The hook. The toes tap and the shoulders sway.
I remember.