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Thread: new stuff

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    Default new stuff

    this is the new concept album i am working on...i sing, play guitar, and bass, and keyboards.. my friend travis plays drums. the concept of the album is: i created a character resembeling myself.. he is bipolar and he has a large problem with social anxiety...he is well-read and a definite thinker but he feels like the world is at loss. he has given up on love and on standing up for what is right, so he decides to lock himself inside his room until he figures himslef/the world out...using the arts as his medium...the introductions to the songs are his thoughts and thoughts are his artistic expressions...i wrote all of these songs locked in my room so i could get inside his head...tell me what you think...

    I lie on the floor of my room...looking up at the ceiling taking in the sights. I am nothing, everything I was told I could be, was fiction. The people in my life aren’t really people at all, they are more like amoebas floating aimlessly with their optimism and their hope in their front pockets. Me, I am in the f***ing world, I see it for what it really is...desolate. I feverishly glance up down and around my walls which have been scribbled on with permanent markers to my liking. Maybe it’s the drugs, maybe it’s the fear but I am done with love, I am done with hope, I am done with her. She used to scream at me, she was a bit loquacious for my liking. We had our ups and our downs but we savored the hate like precious gem stones that could vanish into thin air at every given turn. I have deplorable qualities, I tend to smoke too much and sometimes I can be abrasive, but does that constitute what she did to me? I don’t think it does. I think she is the one who has truly lost all hope...f***ing narcissist. I rebel against what I think is wrong i.e. religious persecution, racial discrimination, and above all, war. Am I being productive is the question. Am I standing by my virtues and fighting justly and fairly...or am I one of them...they refer to themselves as “traditionalists” but I think that is a crock of s**t. They are afraid of change... “this country is noble.” Ha! This is the most hated country in all the free world. I will give them one thing, they are surprisingly optimistic...but optimism can kill if you’re not careful

    It begins(with a girl)...typical


    “who do you think you are?
    You got the attitude that is overbearing
    where do we go from here?
    I got scars in my nose from the perfume you are wearing
    I got a case
    im going mental
    the thought of your face
    is detrimental
    to my health
    are you still breathing
    because if you are I hope your heaving
    I need a drink
    your voice is so bruised
    you have got a grasp
    but have I got you?
    Oh you’re the queen of well intentions
    when was last time you followed through
    with anything

    and oh, do want to go
    back to your place
    back to your bed
    and oh I am feeling alone
    so come bleed with me


    and I play the music loud
    in hopes to drown out the crowd
    of chattering inside my left brain
    killing off the songs im writing
    I’ve got a trait
    that’s handicapped me
    you’re I n my brain
    i’m rarely happy
    go lose yourself
    with Mr. Love song
    I’m sure he’ll play
    when your feeling down
    your having s*x
    to she sound of his recordings
    but he’ll leave before tomorrow morning

    and oh, don’t you wanna go back to your place
    back to your bed
    and oh your hips are moving slow
    I’m bad having bad thoughts..im having bad thoughts..”


    The tension eases a bit in my mind yet I still hold myself accountable for all of the mishaps that have happened in my life. I am the catalyst for hunger and misfortune. I feel like a time bomb ticking quietly waiting for some super charismatic sleuth to shut me off just before I detonate...but I know that is wishful thinking......



    “hop inside darling
    lets go for a ride
    I’m a time bomb
    the worst kind
    rain or shine I
    will be right on time
    to explode on Que
    and ruin your healthy shine...
    Don’t you think it sad
    I hope to god
    you storm right out in front of me
    I’m a bastard
    but I still hope you leave
    and I hope your done with me

    the moon is daunting
    let’s be in love
    some time’s it haunting
    being above
    my set of two eyes
    behind my skull
    I’ve got a problem
    you’re my problem
    don’t you think I am f***ed
    my mind changes every half minute
    and my life gets harder every second you are in it

    but you have such artful eyes
    I can see right through your lies
    please take me down from here tonight
    I am ticking out of sight
    oh just let me go

    but you have such clammy hands
    they sweat right through my pants
    im sick and tired of this dance
    oh just let me go
    let me go, let me explode..”


    The thought of my own intentions holds my back to this carpet. I remember how well you chose your vocabulary...then again you are nothing without a thesaurus.. You hate me, my parents don’t trust me. Who am I? What have I done with these eighteen years of life? Is it all a waste? I build up emotions and plans for the day that fall through as if they were constructed on paper foundation. I am all that I am, and all that I am is what they intended for me not to be. I could be sorry but I am not. I could have regrets, but I don’t....

    “Flicker in
    with your statements aloft
    and hope that I
    soak it up
    there’s a rag stuck in the bottle
    of gasoline that is my world I start the lows
    hope I’m a sleep
    by the break of the first ray
    but what’s a dream
    when I just fantasize all day
    I am a hormone I am the first born
    I am the one who set the low

    can it try
    to sell this to you
    I am not what you think of me to be
    I am the cry
    of a pleated sentence
    I am the youth buzzed out on nicotine
    all of the books
    that I have opened
    they are half read and on the floor
    the words are cliche
    the titles dismay
    they are better windows than doors
    to knowledge I find
    my peace of mind
    knowing that no one really knows much at all

    They say curiosity can kill
    but so can methamphetamine
    I don’t mean to put those two things together
    but like a drug it flows through me...”

    I am tired of drawing, I am tired of writing, I am tired of introversion. But I am also not willing to be subject to mind games and metaphors that loom out side my walls like statuesque generals waging wars of words, and McCarthyism. Why can’t people just be straight forward anymore. Hidden motives have ruined this society...

    “I am tired of living
    under your liberty bell
    the canopy of half truths
    and bullet shells
    like I feel safe
    with your CIA
    call me to the draft
    and I’ll go MIA
    you liars!
    You liars!
    You f***ing lied to us!
    We got pinned down
    pinned down
    now what do you have to say for yourselves
    to the generals
    the general consensus
    we don’t want peace...we demand it!
    And if you can’t provide it
    the step the f**k down
    and I’ll go find it!

    I am tired of being
    the hated tribe
    because I don’t think like you
    nor do I swallow your “truths”
    some may take you down like a pills
    but we are growing we are growing
    the ipecac so you start throwing
    up all the evidence that would make you guilty
    and I wont shut up until you kill me
    murderers!
    Extortionists!
    International hit men!
    Times up times up!
    Go back to your mansions!
    To the generals
    the general consensus
    we don’t want peace...we demand it!

    Now give it back!...”
    Last edited by theconcept; 10-27-2006 at 08:35 PM.

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