Category: a-musing

For a while, it looked like I would be providing lyrics for a group; sort of pop/EBM, although the sound was never really defined. This is one of the original proposals. I don’t have a date for it, but it would have been some point between August 2001 and January 2004. Specific, eh? I could look at the meta-data, but I’m lazy.

Girls who wait
With frigid tight smiles
Guys who leer
Looking for their mile
The advantage you take
The risk that you spread
Are you at all aware of it?
Is it at all in your head?

The little boy smile
And innocent appeal
How far does it take you?
How much do you feel?
Where is the cost, benefit, analysis?
Where is your conscience in moments like this?

And I wonder
Do you know
What your actions do
To those other than you
With your blaise smiles
And simple boy grin
Do you see
How it is
You affect me

The little boy smile
And innocent appeal
How far does it take you?
How much do you feel?
Where is the cost, benefit, analysis?
Where is your conscience in moments like this?

I wrote this about a friend back in June 2004. In some ways it’s one of those “life got in our way” things, and in others it’s specific people – his fiance, my husband. In the end, though, it boils down to someone I was very close to, spending hours a day talking to, suddenly moving himself out of my life as much as he could manage – and doing it without warning. Sort of an on-going story in my life, isn’t it?

even without their holy circle
the magpies work their mourning song
nature holds time in her carnival
and the intolerable sweetness of water
glasses ground to dust

so tell me Chancellor
are we ready for dinner?
have the knives been bled?
and tell me Chancellor
who will guard your sleeping form?
from the assassins hiding under your bed

since we do or did – there
was a time was there when
Borgia’s Pass wrapped around me
i hate rabbits said in threes; looking up
like smoke you blew away from me

so tell me Chancellor
are we ready for dinner?
have the knives been bled?
and tell me Chancellor
who will guard your sleeping form?
from the assassins hiding under your bed

whose secret police are we running from
into whose arms do we run
the walls bleed blue
with pestilence hands, mildewed
reaching (as we)
run