Electric President, Two songs with amazing haunting lyrics...

Some Crap About the Future



You spread your rusty fingers across the ledge.
You get your grip and peer down over the edge.
You watch the city move and breathe and migrate.
You’re not apart of it. You’re broken now, like us.

I turn and brush the birds from off my shoulders.
And cross side-walks with an earful of white noise.

You sit up on your perch for the rest of the night.
You watch the moon and hope the damn thing crumbles.
You count the stars reflecting in the windows.
And then you realize just how minimal you are.

I stop and watch the airplanes leave the city.
And I silently wish I was on one.

You sit down slow and watch yourself in the glass.
You reach inside and tear out all your cables.
Snakes of smoke are dripping from your fingers.
You have no body, just a cage to hold your parts.

I have no answers; I’m rambling.
I was never one to solve whatever has gone wrong.

You lie down on the roof and watch the sun rise.
Its burning fingers rummage through your insides.
And for a moment you feel like you’re alive.
And then it’s gone, so you get up.

Up, up, baby. There’s blood on the sidewalks of this town.
They’ve got us on the ropes. But we don’t have to take it lying down anymore.
Our hands aren’t tied now.
Down, down, baby. Down in the in the center of this town.
They’ve got ‘em buried deep.
Under layers of concrete are the bones of our past.

(Oh no, no)

We’ll leave on the evening train.
It won’t be long, but it feels that way.
But home never meant very much to us anyway.
So we convince ourselves that we’re better off gone.
And maybe we’re right.

And we collapse on a road.
On an old dirt road, where the sun doesn’t look like such a waste.
And we fall asleep, under leaves of a couple of them nearby tress.
And we never wake again.

More lyrics: http://www.lyricsmania.com/some_crap_about_the_future_lyrics_electric_president.html
All about Electric President: http://www.musictory.com/music/Electric+President


Insomnia



There's a light bulb dangling from string
It's slowly swaying up over my head now
As I jot down the words that'll never be sung
And wait for my headache to numb
And the wind sounds as if the world's sighing
And the moon's just a torn fingernail
As the TV flickers and hums by the wall
And I wait for my eyesight to fade

So, So, So
It's so damn slow
So, So, So
It's so damn slow

And the bright-eyed choke on ambition
And the old folks circle their graves
And the young ones are busy destroying their names
And you’re still just wasting away.
I sit and watch the screen for a message
Some kinda sign that says we’re OK
But the screen stays blank till I turn the thing off
And wait for my conscience to break.

The Levels of Perception

Two billion people in our world,we have two billion differing viewpoints. No one person really see the same world as another.

Bracing for the next phase

I'll be thirty in exactly 31 days, 2 hours, 53 minutes. Sigh....a new decade and the next phase of my life.

Whirlwind World

To keep in your pocket
Then lift me please
Till smooth all right for you

Let me lie a million years

Pebbles anchored but not unchanged
Where time flows rippleless
Are we pebbles in a stream?
I happen just by chance?

To a million others
Two tied at ends
Are you caught with me?
Like a balloon caught in a whirlwind

Whither the current will take
Searching, reaching out but survive, lost
Is your design for me?
The whirlwind world

Bliss were the simplest things

Funny how long i've felt estranged from myself. I wonder whether being "un"selfcentered meant being estranged from oneself. If that is the case, may not be such a good thing? I am longing for the same room i am in now typing all this out but of a couple decades back in time when it was half its size with minimum worldly belongings in it. A few books on a plain low wooden table, a narrow single bed and a little cloth wardrobe with my dark blue school pinafores neatly hung inside. My geatest pastime at that age was to come straight home from school and curl up in bed with the gigantic book of fairytales my farther bought me to cultivate my earliest reading habit. Much complaints i heard the years thereafter about how i wrap my head around too much fiction (many other books came by later) and how i negleted my school syllables. That first book was facinating, like a magic world i entered and shared with only the characters bound in its pages. Cinderella, the Little Match Girl and the sparrow that chose to freeze under its beloved statue over the prospect of flying to the warmer south in act of abandonment. I couldnt remember most of the tales now except for the evergreen popular ones. How I miss that book which I've read a thousand times over. What i truly miss is probably the solitude comfort and the carefree world that most of us have lived through at the age of childhood and adolacence. Now my world is cluttered and afflicted with many worldly concerns, fears, material desires, uncertainty and insecurities. This is the wheel of life. Cyclical phases. We grow up and we see and know too much and we struggle to stay on this fast track marathon of the information and technology age. But run as we may, we have just one cycle, if we are lucky. That is a lifetime.