Chonny Jash | STORM AND A SPRING | Chonny Jash @ChonnyJash | Uploaded 1 year ago | Updated 4 hours ago
merry [day_25]!
no, the title isn't a typo
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
LYRICS:
One time, I tried to sing
about… I don’t know, but it was nothing fucking new.
Yet another platitude.
“Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, bla-blah blah”
is all they heard.
Oh, you thought they were listening?
Now, don’t be absurd.
All the rain comes down the same,
but not a drop can stake its claim.
Down they pour, with millions more, to the floor with no name.
I’m sure you really sang your Heart out,
or I’m sure that’s how it seemed.
But you and I both know so well, now
that looks can be deceiving.
‘Cos “blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, bla-blah blah”
is so overdone.
For a man cloaked in daylight, you sure hate the sun.
When the tears stream down one day,
obfuscated by the rain,
can you truly say, with a straight face that you tried your best?
(Mr Mind?)
Yeah?
(What do you see from behind those dead, leaden eyes?)
A Soul so deep, and dark, and eternally cold.
And an oath, formed from us both that it would stay whole.
But I think, if I left it to you
you’d fall under its weight
and kill it too.
But I won’t let you ruin what we could still be.
We have so much left to sing.
Such a plain and simple thing.
Yet your silence lines this pit in which we have lain.
All the rage, despair and shame
that’s been caged, ensnared and flamed
form this atom bomb of songs refused to be played.
So if you insist on crying
while our host is slowly dying,
then I’ll cut you loose and spare this noose the dead weight.
Silent, explosive’s this vile scent’s corrosives.
The wiles and the woes that these sibilants and plosives
defer to inside from the errings he hides.
He’s so confident his throes won’t be found once he’s died
but these silent explosives caused violent narcosis.
This trident he forged is both weapon and motive.
This world will forget you, neglect, then regret to
enweave the same story the backdrop is set to.
The vastness of time, the unrhymable rhymes.
I have heard this before but I’ll
(Repeat until nothing is left to repeat
and the universe bursts with an overworked sigh, then
pretend to pretend to re-crown the creation and
sing the same songs ‘til the clouds start to cry, and then
over and over and over again, and then
over and over and)
never again.
One time, you tried to sing
about storm and a spring.
But they know how it...
merry [day_25]!
no, the title isn't a typo
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
LYRICS:
One time, I tried to sing
about… I don’t know, but it was nothing fucking new.
Yet another platitude.
“Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, bla-blah blah”
is all they heard.
Oh, you thought they were listening?
Now, don’t be absurd.
All the rain comes down the same,
but not a drop can stake its claim.
Down they pour, with millions more, to the floor with no name.
I’m sure you really sang your Heart out,
or I’m sure that’s how it seemed.
But you and I both know so well, now
that looks can be deceiving.
‘Cos “blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, bla-blah blah”
is so overdone.
For a man cloaked in daylight, you sure hate the sun.
When the tears stream down one day,
obfuscated by the rain,
can you truly say, with a straight face that you tried your best?
(Mr Mind?)
Yeah?
(What do you see from behind those dead, leaden eyes?)
A Soul so deep, and dark, and eternally cold.
And an oath, formed from us both that it would stay whole.
But I think, if I left it to you
you’d fall under its weight
and kill it too.
But I won’t let you ruin what we could still be.
We have so much left to sing.
Such a plain and simple thing.
Yet your silence lines this pit in which we have lain.
All the rage, despair and shame
that’s been caged, ensnared and flamed
form this atom bomb of songs refused to be played.
So if you insist on crying
while our host is slowly dying,
then I’ll cut you loose and spare this noose the dead weight.
Silent, explosive’s this vile scent’s corrosives.
The wiles and the woes that these sibilants and plosives
defer to inside from the errings he hides.
He’s so confident his throes won’t be found once he’s died
but these silent explosives caused violent narcosis.
This trident he forged is both weapon and motive.
This world will forget you, neglect, then regret to
enweave the same story the backdrop is set to.
The vastness of time, the unrhymable rhymes.
I have heard this before but I’ll
(Repeat until nothing is left to repeat
and the universe bursts with an overworked sigh, then
pretend to pretend to re-crown the creation and
sing the same songs ‘til the clouds start to cry, and then
over and over and over again, and then
over and over and)
never again.
One time, you tried to sing
about storm and a spring.
But they know how it...
