Now, let me tell you a story.
Of a time, when you asked for water and got gasoline.
Being good was bad and bad was ok.
Don't shed a tear, that's not what we need
Pay attention to the rhythm instead.
They fail me sometimes, these words.
Take the baton, we've all followed once.
The fabric is now ripped.
Let's stitch it our way now
* Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha... *
Do you hear that.?
No.? ..shame.
The old colors are now dead.
The riff still plays.
The're calling out, wanting to be heard.
You'll hear them, soon enough.
Just wrap my arms around.
It might get loud and the parents are out.
Just wrap my arms around.
There are no rules, there are no laws..
Smell that, my puppies.
That would be a verse.
Taste this, my flower.
This is disappointment
Feel that ye rascals.. Mischief is its name.
The old colors ARE dead.
Now, we paint anew.
Today we fly.
Tomorrow we dive.
The magic is all around.
We were invincible too.
As you are now.
Rebel. It's why we live.
Laugh. It's how we live
Celebrate.! You are story-tellers.
Note: This flurry came out thanks to this very interesting little telly bit I managed to come across - "It might get loud". A session between the legendary Jimmy Page, The Edge and Jack White. They swap influences, creations, inspiration and best of all jam music the way it's meant to.
2 comments:
It Might Get Loud is brilliant!
It IS, isn't it.? =)
Shed a tear in absolute joy as they played. sigh.
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