undecided

its 1am,
4 more hours to get up for camp.

recorded another song today, one of Ina's. i really like how it turned out, prob my fav song on the whole album.

prob gonna finish recording the album by the end of this week, looking forward to it.

there are so many things i would like to say but , i cant and i dont know how and im running out


of time.

recording

ive been spending a couple of nights recording the guitar bits for the new album.
ive got about 2 or 3 more songs to go, plus the keyboards.

i cant help but feel insecure bout my guitar playing and the music in general, sometimes it sounds like pure KINDERKRAKEN to me, a little too digestable ,too bright, a little too bite-sized. perhaps i've just outgrown the music.

like someone said, i guess its a good closing of a chapter. now i want something less approacheable, darker, edgier, more linear.

blessed

I found an old tape of my dad's that he used to play in th car when i was a kid. Simon and garfunkle, this one had alot of obscure songs that are not on their greatest hits. there was one i like, when i was small i never understood the words or the anger, thinking this was a christian song.


Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit.
Blessed is the lamb whose blood flows.
Blessed are the sat upon, Spat upon,shat upon, Ratted on,
O Lord, Why have you forsaken me?
I got no place to go,
I've walked around Soho for the last night or so.
Ah, but it doesn't matter, no.

Blessed is the land and the kingdom.
Blessed is the man whose soul belongs to.
Blessed are the meth drinkers, Pot sellers, Illusion dwellers.
O Lord, Why have you forsaken me?
My words trickle down, like a wound
That I have no intention to heal.

Blessed are the stained glass, window pane glass.
Blessed is the church service makes me nervous
Blessed are the penny rookers, Cheap hookers, Groovy lookers.
O Lord, Why have you forsaken me?
I have tended my own garden
Much too long.

there is nothing i want from u anymore.

death, death death.

burn your poems and smoke them

i havnt used the internet for over a week, its wonderfully entertaining to me now.

i took an mc today so i didnt have to go to camp. somewhere in the middle of waiting my turn at the clinic, amidst my own cold shivers, pounding migraine, nausea and hacking coughs with the coppery taste of blood in my mouth, it suddenly occured to me that i never wrote a poem about the joys and experience of smoking. After all smoking used to be a big part of my life, and ive done it for almost a quarter of it. how unceremoniously i left it, no farewell, no last goodbye nothing, so i decided to .


we've missed the last buses and trains
so can we stay out til late

i like the dark
i like the way you are in the dark

on piggy back rides
under a bridge at night
i smelt your hair
now sometimes i smell you
when your not there

the end is near
wont you hold my hand til we get here

maybe its better this way
we'll never grow apart
never crash
never burn
never stray

still i cant help but wonder
what it would have been like anyway

can we stay
can we stay

walk under metal skeletons
sending drink cans to watery graves

every step we've made
is sending more darkness to bed

we've missed the last buses and trains
so can we stay til late

i want you so bad
but tomorrow won't wait.