because a band called Sum 41 helpt me so much once
my days with music
and I promise you it helpt
because those twenty-years-old boys
who created the music which I
needed became the only ones
who understood
and they became my personal psychologists and welfare officers
(and they were so much better than that school welfare officers
I met in 8th grade was)
and I have never asked about a blonde
prince on a white horse
or a well-trained brat
and I have never asked about a cute
emo-boy or a
Sid Vicious-copy
I have hardly asked for a real friend
because I know you exist only if the
trolls in the stories I used to hear and love
when I was young
but if you exist can you always
make a call, or knock on the door
because I live on the 4th floor in
a 9-storey house
because now can't even the music
be my personal psychologist
because I have somewhere lost
myself in its tones and vibrations
and melodies
I'm still spinning in it
and please stop me now
because I need the music to breathe,
understand and survive
and among idiots I don't wanna exist
because somewhere I wanna go back
to the world of music
in real
and find the truths
among the tones and the melodies
and maybe can I to the end
find the right notes
to write my own melody
So if you want to, knock on my door
because I live on the 4th floor in
a 9-storey house
and you can always sit down
at my place and grip one of the guitar
and help me found
the right tones,
write the right notes
because then I maybe find
my own melody
in the end
Poetry by Halloway
Read 909 times
Written on 2007-06-18 at 20:15
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because I live in a 9-storey house
Once in my life I used to survivemy days with music
and I promise you it helpt
because those twenty-years-old boys
who created the music which I
needed became the only ones
who understood
and they became my personal psychologists and welfare officers
(and they were so much better than that school welfare officers
I met in 8th grade was)
and I have never asked about a blonde
prince on a white horse
or a well-trained brat
and I have never asked about a cute
emo-boy or a
Sid Vicious-copy
I have hardly asked for a real friend
because I know you exist only if the
trolls in the stories I used to hear and love
when I was young
but if you exist can you always
make a call, or knock on the door
because I live on the 4th floor in
a 9-storey house
because now can't even the music
be my personal psychologist
because I have somewhere lost
myself in its tones and vibrations
and melodies
I'm still spinning in it
and please stop me now
because I need the music to breathe,
understand and survive
and among idiots I don't wanna exist
because somewhere I wanna go back
to the world of music
in real
and find the truths
among the tones and the melodies
and maybe can I to the end
find the right notes
to write my own melody
So if you want to, knock on my door
because I live on the 4th floor in
a 9-storey house
and you can always sit down
at my place and grip one of the guitar
and help me found
the right tones,
write the right notes
because then I maybe find
my own melody
in the end
Poetry by Halloway
Read 909 times
Written on 2007-06-18 at 20:15
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
