And the morning came to pass
Reflected in the colored glass
Falling down on concrete skin
And steel bones all trembling
Night preys on the lonesome
Losing days left and
Right and wrong are nothing now
The light has come and gone
And the day, it sang a song
A melody so clear and strong
Echoing through broken dreams
And steel bones and silent screams
Night preys on the lonesome
Losing days left and
Right and wrong are nothing now
The light has come and gone
And the evening built a nest
Against the winds of midnight's breath
Steel bones are crumbling
Beneath the weight of all the sin
Night preys on the lonesome
Losing days left and
Right and wrong are nothing now
The light has come and gone
jbg
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Monday, October 15, 2007
Emerge
Where have I been?
Well... for one, I was trudging through the Wasteland that was the 2007 Chicago Marathon.
Was it as bad as the press reported?
Yes.
I think it was.
But I survived and finished and, thanks to my generous supporters, raised over $1000 for the American Cancer Society.
So there was that... and recovering from that, physically and emotionally. So I just wanted to stick my head up to say that good things are coming... Much news soon.
Love,
jbg
So there was that... and recovering from that, physically and emotionally. So I just wanted to stick my head up to say that good things are coming... Much news soon.
Love,
jbg
Monday, October 01, 2007
Explosions Below
Lately, I've been less hesitant.
Less uncertain.
More decisive.
Still, perhaps not quite as decisive as I'd like to be.
But better.
So... here's something I'm a little hesitant about: sharing some lyrics.
What, you say?
You're NEVER hesitant about sharing lyrics. Sometimes for weeks at a time, that's ALL you share.
And you'd be right about that.
(You are SO smart)
But these new lyrics are a little different.
My writing over the last year or two has, I think, veered towards the personal and direct. Certainly the writing on the Paper Arrows' album did. But... lately, I think, I've fallen back a little bit into more impressionistic writing. Which is fine. I've been enjoying it. I think I do it better now... maybe I've found a better balance.
Anyway... So it came as a surprise last week when, on the plane ride home from L.A., I had one of the most vivid, difficult, personal, and ultimately (I guess) rewarding writing experiences I've ever had. It was pretty unbelievable actually... almost out of body.
I had no idea where I was going when I started writing and the whole thing kind of spiraled out of my control and left me a blubbering mess. Literally. Crying as quietly as possible in my seat, tens of thousands of feet in the air, scaring the crap out of my traveling companion... battling with the words in front of me as they poured out of my hand onto the paper.
I don't know quite how else to describe it.
Out of body is probably the best way. So over the course of maybe 45 minutes, I rocked in my window seat, wept mostly silent tears, and with a singular focus chased and channeled the lyrical demon I'd unknowingly summoned... it just kept going and going and going.
What I was left with at the end of the experience is... something I'm almost afraid of. Something I've been trying to set to music, but not trying too hard... out of fear? Out of... I don't know. So... before I hesitate. Again.
EXPLOSIONS BELOW Explosions below And still lingering dreams Of funerals and arguments And trying to breathe As water runs in From impossible seas Saying goodbye Never leads where it seems To lead Burning my skin Til it peels away And hoping the coast Gives me something to say In the end it turned out I was borrowing days And I opened my eyes Just a little too late It's always too late It's all drifting away It's all fading to grey And I'm watching her go And I'm checking the phone And I'm waiting for love But it's never enough And I'm drying her eyes Like it means we'll survive Like it makes it okay That she's leaving today And taking her things And leaving her rings And I'm missing her laugh It's echoing out In the hollowed out rooms It's echoing loud And I'm sick of the ghosts And I'm tired of hope And I'm tired of tears So tired of tears I'm forgetting the days They're all slipping away I'm letting them fade Into shadows and graves Into thunder and rain Into sunshine and planes And explosions below And I'm hiding my face And I'm trying to breathe And I'm catching my breath And I'm ready to leave And I'm burning her name With my hand in the flames I'm turning the page Of the last thing that she gave me The last thing that she gave me The last thing that she gave me The last thing that she gave me The last thing that she gave me The last thing that she gave me
jbg
My writing over the last year or two has, I think, veered towards the personal and direct. Certainly the writing on the Paper Arrows' album did. But... lately, I think, I've fallen back a little bit into more impressionistic writing. Which is fine. I've been enjoying it. I think I do it better now... maybe I've found a better balance.
Anyway... So it came as a surprise last week when, on the plane ride home from L.A., I had one of the most vivid, difficult, personal, and ultimately (I guess) rewarding writing experiences I've ever had. It was pretty unbelievable actually... almost out of body.
I had no idea where I was going when I started writing and the whole thing kind of spiraled out of my control and left me a blubbering mess. Literally. Crying as quietly as possible in my seat, tens of thousands of feet in the air, scaring the crap out of my traveling companion... battling with the words in front of me as they poured out of my hand onto the paper.
I don't know quite how else to describe it.
Out of body is probably the best way. So over the course of maybe 45 minutes, I rocked in my window seat, wept mostly silent tears, and with a singular focus chased and channeled the lyrical demon I'd unknowingly summoned... it just kept going and going and going.
What I was left with at the end of the experience is... something I'm almost afraid of. Something I've been trying to set to music, but not trying too hard... out of fear? Out of... I don't know. So... before I hesitate. Again.
EXPLOSIONS BELOW Explosions below And still lingering dreams Of funerals and arguments And trying to breathe As water runs in From impossible seas Saying goodbye Never leads where it seems To lead Burning my skin Til it peels away And hoping the coast Gives me something to say In the end it turned out I was borrowing days And I opened my eyes Just a little too late It's always too late It's all drifting away It's all fading to grey And I'm watching her go And I'm checking the phone And I'm waiting for love But it's never enough And I'm drying her eyes Like it means we'll survive Like it makes it okay That she's leaving today And taking her things And leaving her rings And I'm missing her laugh It's echoing out In the hollowed out rooms It's echoing loud And I'm sick of the ghosts And I'm tired of hope And I'm tired of tears So tired of tears I'm forgetting the days They're all slipping away I'm letting them fade Into shadows and graves Into thunder and rain Into sunshine and planes And explosions below And I'm hiding my face And I'm trying to breathe And I'm catching my breath And I'm ready to leave And I'm burning her name With my hand in the flames I'm turning the page Of the last thing that she gave me The last thing that she gave me The last thing that she gave me The last thing that she gave me The last thing that she gave me The last thing that she gave me
jbg
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