'Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable
And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button, girl.
So cradle your head in your hands
And breathe...
Not above all, it was hurt pride and a profound sense of rejection that created the tidal anger that still refuses to be quelled. Not the rejection of myself per se, but of a relationship on my terms. Life has, thus far, been wonderfully biased towards me but in doing so has curiously twisted me into a corner, trapping me by the moutains of riches offered to my whims and fancies.
What was I saying? Well, I assult myself with the past every few days/weeks. Everything that I have fought so hard to shed off is washed up by the tide and drapes over me like seaweed. I guess this is full reminder that I cannot do anything by my strength alone. And that any accomplishment I make without Christ serves to be a fatally weak house built on sand.
What am I saying? Oh I don't really know myself. There are just somedays when the past walks up and sneaks a withered arm around my waist and draws me toward what I have lost and away from what I have gained and grown. That's just it. It's the past. But the Miss Havisham in me has stopped the clocks to that exact moment of betrayal. The sands of what-could-have-been slip through my fingers, my desperate clutch still throbbing. I must move before the sands of my hourglass fail through too.
Here in town you can tell he's been down for a while,
But, my God, it's so beautiful when the boy smiles,
Wanna hold him. Maybe I'll just sing about it.
And then later, it will fade into silence. I'm too old to belive in ghosts.
There's a light at each end of this tunnel,
You shout 'cause you're just as far in as you'll ever be out
And these mistakes you've made, you'll just make them again
If you only try turning around.
I'm weak, but I know what is and what must be.
My head might crane backward and my heart might pulse to a forgotten beat, but my toes are pointing forward.
If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you'll use them, however you want to
What was I saying? Well, I assult myself with the past every few days/weeks. Everything that I have fought so hard to shed off is washed up by the tide and drapes over me like seaweed. I guess this is full reminder that I cannot do anything by my strength alone. And that any accomplishment I make without Christ serves to be a fatally weak house built on sand.
What am I saying? Oh I don't really know myself. There are just somedays when the past walks up and sneaks a withered arm around my waist and draws me toward what I have lost and away from what I have gained and grown. That's just it. It's the past. But the Miss Havisham in me has stopped the clocks to that exact moment of betrayal. The sands of what-could-have-been slip through my fingers, my desperate clutch still throbbing. I must move before the sands of my hourglass fail through too.
Here in town you can tell he's been down for a while,
But, my God, it's so beautiful when the boy smiles,
Wanna hold him. Maybe I'll just sing about it.
And then later, it will fade into silence. I'm too old to belive in ghosts.
There's a light at each end of this tunnel,
You shout 'cause you're just as far in as you'll ever be out
And these mistakes you've made, you'll just make them again
If you only try turning around.
I'm weak, but I know what is and what must be.
My head might crane backward and my heart might pulse to a forgotten beat, but my toes are pointing forward.
~ Lyrics: Breathe by Anna Nalick.
First heard in Robby's car in Kelowna, on the way to meet Ryan for lunch.
The problem is that I have an insatiable need to express. And I look back at what I have written and am highly dissatisfied with this archaic gibberish that cannot be disguised as something meaningful and to be worth its e-space. It's about Dennis of course and not only has this dead horse been flogged silly, its barely sporting anymore flesh. Gah, I think I'll just blog till I'm so sick of the subject I'll naturally get over him. Meh.First heard in Robby's car in Kelowna, on the way to meet Ryan for lunch.
If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you'll use them, however you want to
1 comment:
well i dont like the song, but i agree with the (your) message, so it works itself out
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