Modern Celebrity

I pity anyone who doesn't have dreams of their own, who lack the longing to test their limits, and those who simply give up and live up to the expectation of whatever bloodline begat them.

Human beings were meant to be individuals. To express themselves and find themselves. And those born with silver spoons in their mouths, wracked with guilt and their palates cloying with foods that are too rich and wasteful, who rally at their apparent uselessness and cannot accept their lot in life, nor FIND that lot but rather just swallow whatever life gives them...

Yeah. I don't envy you people.

A Megadeth-ish thrash/heavy metal riff and beat. Believe it or not the timing is perfect right out the gate, and when Anubis Unit gets around to doin' this puppy (or No Rhymes, whichever) it's going to hit HARD.

Enjoy, lemme know what you think, the usual fixin's on the side. In the meantime, time for steak!

There strides forth those misbegotten Godly Ones
Those chosen within the framework of existence

There goes forth those children of the Gods
Paying heed only to their unnecessary whims

All bow to those unfortunate souls
Silver spoons deep within their orifice
All pay heed to their gormless words
Even as the guilt tears them from deep within

There by the grace of God goes they who
Live only up to the expectations of others

See them march upon their straightened path
See them as they fall prey to their chosen ends

All bow to those unfortunate ones
Silver spoons damming their insufferable cries
All ignore their true dreams and drives
But all pay heed to when they fall

Success
Success
Success
Completely unbidden

Success
Success
Success
Absolute unforgiven

Success
Success
Success
Increase the drive

Success
Success
Success
Profit from their lives

You cannot stand the head if you've never been burned
You shall wither under the gaze of scrutiny

Deny your dreams and deny yourself and
Whether or not you decide from life unto death

All bow to those unfortunate chosen
Those who can never do wrong publicly
Silver spoons tie up their silver tongues
They're merely lucky, they're merely lucky

Some may be humbled and some may be without
Some must live only so others must die

There strides forth the haunted procession
Of those who dared to struggle against the tide

All bow down to those fortunate souls
To win forever is their desired goal
Silver spoons plot out their every step
How can you wonder that their life is ever anything

but good....
For them....
For us....
To prove....
To us...
The dream...
Cannot die...
It's there...
For only 9.99~!

YOU WATCH THEM ALL AS THEY LINE UP
YOU WATCH THEM ALL AS THEY FALL DOWN
YOU WATCH THEM ALL AS THEY MISUNDERSTAND
YOU WATCH THEM ALL AS THEY FOLLOW THEIR PLANS

YOU WATCH THEM ALL AS THEY LINE UP
YOU WATCH THEM ALL AS THEY'RE MISQUOTED
YOU WATCH THEM ALL AS THEY'RE BLINDFOLDED
YOU WATCH THEM ALL AS THEY SMOKE A FINAL CIGARETTE

(bridge)

There strides forth those unholy godless ones
They listen to no other advice but everyone's

There goes forth those oversensitized
Their palates choking on the whims of bad advice

All must bow to these chosen souls
The silver spoon a misguided council
All must know of their quoted words
Dripping with filth even as they scream for help

There by the grace of God goes all of us
Teeming and surging with money, the root of their problems

There goes what little privacy they had
In the search for the contentment they left behind

All must bow to these hungry ones
Silver Spoon starving them as it feeds
All must pay heed to their struggles
Even though their soul continues to bleed

Success
Success
Success
Never just settle

Success
Success
Success
Never test your mettle

Success
Success
Success
At any cost

Success
Success
Success
No dreams of their own

What good...
For them...
Content...
Nevermore...
Their dreams...
Set aside...
Never trusting...
Bloodlines...
The proof...
Their excess...
The baggage...
They never rest...

YOU WATCH THEM ALL AS THEY LINE UP
YOU WATCH THEM ALL AS THEY FALL DOWN
YOU WATCH THEM ALL AS THEY MISUNDERSTAND
YOU WATCH THEM ALL AS THEY FOLLOW THEIR PLANS

YOU WATCH THEM ALL AS THEY LINE UP
YOU WATCH THEM ALL AS THEY'RE MISQUOTED
YOU WATCH THEM ALL AS THEY'RE BLINDFOLDED
YOU WATCH THEM ALL AS THEY SMOKE A FINAL CIGARETTE

YOU WATCH THEM ALL AS THEY TAKE THE LINE
YOU WATCH THEM ALL AS THEY TAKE THEIR BOW
YOU WATCH THEM ALL SIMPERING PLAYERS
YOU WATCH THEM ALL AS THEY FALL DOWN

YOU WATCH THEM ALL AS THEY LINE UP
YOU WATCH THEM ALL AS THEY FALL DOWN
YOU WATCH THEM ALL POOR PATHETIC PLAYERS
YOU WATCH THEM ALL WHILE THEY SUCCUMB

Cherry-Flavored Kisses (Elena's Code)

Well now. I made a promise to show this sometime, and here it is. The "forbidden song." I've written a couple of love songs in my lifetime, and this one is the one that, for some reason, always causes anyone I've ever sung it to try and stab me eventually. I haven't sung it at all for the past couple of times, and I guess...I dunno, reckon I'm testing the waters a little.

Originally I wrote up an entire soundtrack for a comic project. This was number 2 on the list, and each song dealt with a "code" or theme for each character.

Funny story, the absolute other "forbidden song" is also on the list. THAT one, on the other hand, I'll just never talk about it.

I never wrote it. I'll never admit to having written it. Screw you if you find it.

"Cherry" is best whispered as well as sung into someone's ear. Truuuuust me on this Apparently I'm the only one the whole drives-them-to-knife-frenzy occurs, everyone else just has a really good night.

Bah.

I know (I know)
you like the way I drizzle
apple cider over your tongue
I know how to make you happy

Just kissin' and cuddlin'
on-a-Saturday-mornin'
makin' us a sundae...

I know (I know) the way
you like to tease me
baby-

And when the time comes
the sun will rise
just for two
just kissin' and cuddlin'
on-a-Saturday-mornin'

(Chorus)
Tiptoe (tiptoe)
to my window
my doorway's
always
open- for you

Tiptoe (tiptoe)
creep up to my window
C'mon- in-

Every touch (every touch)
Every time (every time)
Just hold your body close to mine

C'mon and gimme the right stuff
Y'know what I'm talkin' about
Gimme all your honey
and your cherry flavored kiss too...

I know (I know)
you like to savor a wet peach
much better

Just take your time
go slow
and I'll let you be- mi-ne...

I know (I know)
the way to make it last
much longer
just kissin' and cuddlin'
on-a-Saturday-mornin'

bridge

C'mon
I feel your hips
twist and shiver
as I run a strawberry
over your mouth

Go on
and just enjoy
the taste sensations
of my sundae
on-a-Saturday-mornin'

You reach for the cream
and don't forget your chocolate
and your honey-

'Cuz we livin' and lovin'
oh all your cherry-flavored kisses
just lovin' a sundae...
just lickin' that sundae...

(Chorus)
Tiptoe (tiptoe)
to my window
my doorway's
always
open- for you

Tiptoe (tiptoe)
creep up to my window
C'mon- in-

Every touch (every touch)
Every time (every time)
Just hold your body close to mine

C'mon and gimme the right stuff
Y'know what I'm talkin' about
Gimme all your honey
and your cherry flavored kiss too...

kissin'...cuddlin'...
on-a-Saturday-early-mornin'

bring your chocolate
Don't forget to bring your honey too-
I'll bring on the cherries
so we can kiss the night away...

Drench ya with cold cider
It's so cool outside
in here still hot...
so nice and stormin' baby-

Feel your tongue
work against mine
cherry-glazed kissin'
all over you...

Fuckpuppet

Ohhhhhhh yeah, this one. This one was written after watching the four direct-to-dvd Hellraiser movies. Even though they're nowhere near gristly or visceral enough, I still dug the "VAT A TWEEST" endings.

I normally dislike "complicated" songs with, like, differing parts and what-not. Buuuuuut since actually striking out into the music biz, I've come across quite a few good bands who do that - the ending beats and riffs are only similar or completely different to how they started.

Doesn't mean it's GOOD, but I recognize that so long as there's a stable theme and either the beats or riffs are the same throughout the song, it can be at least entertaining.

So yeah. Fuckpuppet. In retrospect a little too Marilyn Mansonish, but meh - good enough to be on the A Night of Complete Horroshow Album.

Tell me does this feel good?
Tell me what you want.
Do you like it like this?
I don't want to be misunderstood

I want to crawl within you
Get to know you better
Want to taste your sweetness
When you turn bitter

I want to snuggle up against you
Cradle you with my mouth
I want you to remember that
It was me who did this

Tell me does this feel good?
Tell me what you want.
Do you like it like this?
I don't want to be misunderstood

Handy when you're needed
Cry when I don't
I can feel you squirm about and out
Once again
I swear
that I won't...

(beats picked up)

The closet full of my sins
The bandages on your flesh
I crave the taste of your skin
Once again, once again

I need more than I should
You need it more than I do
I see you slither without an order

Mockery of love, a morbid whisper

Still it's better when we spend together

Oh lord, Holy Mother

Pray for this wicked sinner

Amidst veils of black, unholy supper

Pray to keep it sexual but I'd never miss a bloody thing
You squirm about in broken passion and I simply will not hesitate
You cry out for this crazy passion and I dare not resist the need to taste
A puppet's right to choose its' master, but I reserve the right to break away
Nothing 'ppears to break it down

Nothin' can tear me away

An untitled poem

Because as I draw closer to mid-life, I realize I'm probably going to write crappy midlife poetry anyway. So I might as well do it at my pace, and at my will rather than because apparently all middle-agers simply do at the behest of time and social status.

Bah. Screw it. Here's an untitled poem for ya.

Untitled

Life is a dream and I'm awake
I've heard all the crap, it's all I can take
I'm not thin-skinned but I'm so hard-headed

See others deserve all that they make
though your time and your life is what they take
You toe the line and feel some contentment

So will you refuse just what they say
Find your own style and live your own way
Certainly these things aren't unrelated?

If life is a dream why am I awake?
I've taken the abuse and seen what I can make
I've seen all the clues but I'm still jaded

I'm still jaded.

Anti

Out of all my social-injustice, class warfare-based songs this one is amongst the most antagonistic. Like, Massively Hysterical antagonistic. Am I prescribing violence as the only answer?

No, just one of them.

Violence isn't the answer. It's just one possible answer out of several.

If nothing else works, there's at least that~!

The chorus is a direct homage to one of them-thar graffiti tags. It had a combine-type riot-armored trooper taking aim at a business-suited gent, very Michael Douglas from Falling Down-ish, with a kerchief-mask wrapped around the lower half of his face and about to throw a molotov. At least I think that's what it was...all I know is that the tag it used, "Those who lay their hands upon me I declare thee tyrants and usurpers" or something like that.

Either way, it inspired this piece. Maybe it's good? Maybe it's bad?

Meh, to me it just is.

Witness (drum beat)
Witness (drum beat)
Witness (drum beat)
Witness (drum beat)

Discovery
Inside of me
But I try to find
within my own mind
Rea-sons
Excavating
Moderation is
Was-ted on this
Treasures that
I ought to know
kept away from me
Blin-ded without
Rea-son
Tyrants reign today
Awaiting
The new rule to come

They who lay hands on me
try to govern me
I declare thee
Tyrants and usurpers

AND I WILL SEEK
TO DESTROY YOU
ALL
UN-TIL
I STAND
FREE
AGAIN!!!!

(bridge)
Witness!
Bear witness!
Witness!
Bear witness!

Responsibility
Set aside at a whim
Can you receive me?
Are you listening?
This is truth here:
don't believe their lies!
You're perfectly fine the
way you've always been.
Captivating
audience members
worldwide
They'll tell you how to be
normal perceptions
ethics gone astray
The hand of man
May yet rise up again!

They who lay hands on me
try to govern me
I declare thee
Tyrants and usurpers

AND I WILL SEEK
TO DESTROY YOU
ALL
UN-TIL
I STAND
FREE
AGAIN!!!!!

Political Dogma

I quite literally just whipped this up last night. The timing's good, and I thankfully recorded an a capella of me singing it so I've got the riffs and rhythm memorized.

I'll be posting the a capella rendition of this later, I've got work tonight lol.

Political Dogma

And you act like you don't live
in a glass house
And you act like you're the only
one around
And you lower the standards
for everybody else
Simply to get ahead in the
voting box
the voting box
the voting box

Discretion never truly
given
And still you swear by all those
lonely words
Replaced your honor with some
dollar bills
And sold your soul up to
the Machine
In the machine
You feel it grinding

(bridge)

And you act like you don't live in
a glass house
And you act like you're the only
one around
So you lower the standard
for everybody else
Simply lie just to get ahead in the
polling race
the polling race
your saving disgrace

Discretion never truly
belonged here
Sell your honor for a few more
votes now
Replaced your pathetic soul with some
dollar bills
And sell yourself out to
the Machine
You're in the machine
Oh can you feel it griiiiiind......

Woah-oh....

A system of perks just to keep you
shackled here
Destroy the weak just to feed
the strong
Discretion and valor don't truly
belong here
Just prostrate yourself before
the Machine
Feel it grinding
Follow it's lead

feel it griiiiiind.....

Anubis Unit - Rockarageous

Y'know, my drummer really likes this one. I really like this one. If you've heard it, you'd probably dig the shit out of it.

I'm just sayin'.

From Anubis Unit's first album, Rockarageous. Because sometimes music doesn't need a message, and we collectively agreed that we heard THIS word instead of "Rock of Ages."

So here's our response. For the record, this is one of the few songs WITH an intro, withOUT a bridge, and it also features a part of the second verse being a stripped down version of the verse riff. It's fuckin' awesome to hear!

(Intro)

IT'S ROCKARAGEOUS~!
WE ROCKED FOR AGES~!
IT'S ROCKARAGEOUS~!
ROCKED HER FOR AGES~(AGES~!)!!!!

I walked a mi-i-ile in his shoes
When I found the rhythm fell in love with the blues

It's not like everyday's always the same
It's just the winds of change are blowing our way

We rocked the Richter Scale to 10.5
Holdin' your body so close to mine
We're ready to roll 'cuz she's ready to go
It's gonna be one helluva horrorshow

IT'S ROCKARAGEOUS~!
WE ROCKED FOR AGES~!
IT'S ROCKARAGEOUS~!
ROCKED HER FOR AGES~!!!!

It came together like crazy glue
Breakin' down the floor just to entertain you

And when the fire burned from ceiling to floor
All you ever wanted was to let it burn more

(stripped verse)

Gettin' to the party and it's on full swing
Cool cats and kittens start to do their thing
Reach for her hand, start to dance real slow
I'm ready to go but she's already NUUUUMB

IT'S ROCKARAGEOUS~!
WE ROCKED FOR AGES~!
IT'S ROCKARAGEOUS~!
ROCKED HER FOR AGES~!!!!

IT'S ROCKARAGEOUS-AGEOUS!!
IT'S ROCKARAGEOUS-AGEOUS!!
WE ROCKED FOR AGES~!
IT'S ROCKARAGEOUS-AGEOUS!!!!!!!

Coffee and Creatine

Dammit. My muse won't let me sleep when I wanted to, and thanks to G (http://www.bloggerati.com) who gave me a great idea and fueled my muse, now I can't.

So you guys remember the concept band No Rhymes, right? Well, I have three jazz/swing pieces I'd wanna develop with 'em. Five Smooth Stones and my fave, Guns and Wine, are definitely up there...but tonight, I got hit to do the lyrics for Coffee and Creatine.

It's meant to be a frenetic, hecetic jazz piece, but when the vocals kick in it's pure swing daddy-o. I mean, this is what my morning ritual usually is, y'know? Extra-strong coffee and a creatine chaser.

Hey, it's worked for me thus far, except for this cough...which is thankfully almost gone.

Be on the lookout for more sound bytes, KAOS stuff and voice-acting attempts. In the meantime, here's Coffee and Creatine's lyrics. Enjoy~!

Yes, every time I say "BLOW DADDY!" it's a call-out to the trumpets and saxomophones to do their thing. I, as always, reserve the right to edit this...but it's pretty good the way it is, yah?

Admittedly, it's kinda cheesy...but I like it. :3



YEAH DIG IT MAN
SO I WAKE UP IN THE MORNING
I'M KINDA YAWNING
BUT THE THINGS CAN'T GET ME DOWN
Y'SEE BREAKFAST IS GOOD
AND I'M STILL BEARING WOOD
FROM THE NIGHT BEFORE DOWNTOWN
NOW I JUMP FROM MY BED
DO A BACKFLIP AND THEN
HOP INTO MY SWEET SHOES
AND I STRAP ON MY FEET
AND THE GIRLS ON THE STREET
KNOW JUST WHAT I'M GONNA DO

I'M GOING TO REVV UP THE BREWJOB
SLAP ON THE ADE-POM
LOOK GOOD ALL UP IN THE MIRROR
AND LIVE LIKE I'M GONNA DIE(IIIIIE)

'CUZ THERE'S NOTHIN' LIKE
COFFEE IN THE MORNING
AND CREATINE IN MY VEINS

COFFEE IN THE MORNING
AND CREATING IN MY VEINS

BURN OUT MY HEART
BEFORE DEATH CAN CATCH UP
...TO ME

GONNA BURN OUT AND DIE YOUNG
SO LIVE LIKE IT'S SWEET SIXTEEN

BLOW DADDY~!

SO I GET HOME TO WORK
AT PRECISELY 16
MINUTES AFTER I'M TWO HOURS LATE
AND I TRY TO EXPLAIN
HOW THE PAIN'S IN MY BRAIN
AND I MIGHT BE OBSOLETE
BUT YA GOTTA PLAY IT COOL
WHEN YER BOSS IS A FOOL
THE VERY SAME GUY'S YA FRIEND
AFTER ALL'S SAID AND DONE
IT WAS ALL FOR THE FUN
THE GUY CRASHED AT YER PAD

He says, "SON I'LL GIVE YOU A LESSON
IF YOU ONLY GIVE ME THAT SWEET
SWEET...SWEET...DARK...FUCKING
RICH CUP OF COFFEE~!"

So I'll give it to him....
Oh we're good friends, after all...
We DID crash that bar so...
So I give it to him...

AND WE CHASE IT DOWN WITH CREATINE!

Ohhhhhh...

I'M GOING TO REVV UP THE BREWJOB
SLAP ON THE ADE-POM
LOOK GOOD ALL UP IN THE MIRROR
AND LIVE LIKE I'M GONNA DIE(IIIIIE)

'CUZ THERE'S NOTHIN' LIKE
COFFEE IN THE MORNING
AND CREATINE IN MY VEINS

COFFEE IN THE MORNING
AND CREATING IN MY VEINS

BURN OUT MY HEART
BEFORE DEATH CAN CATCH UP
...TO ME

GONNA BURN OUT AND DIE YOUNG
SO LIVE LIKE IT'S SWEET SIXTEEN

BLOW DADDY~!

A block of text that could probably be set up somehow into a something....

"Less A Poem And More Just A Thingy"

Sometimes, I see things. I can't explain it, I just do.

Depends on the song, or the sounds outside my window, or in my head.

At times I see an old man, staggering alone and lonesome down a broken road, the glittering shards of dreams gathering about his shuffling boots. His back is bent, his head is bowed, but his eyes are still fierce, still fever bright and raging. They glow in the darkness surrounding him, that wicked, wicked old thing. The whole world beats on him, but he continues shuffling, heedless of the dreams he's lost behind him. Nothing left save his principles, nothing left save what honor hasn't been withered away by life.

Other times I see a beautiful young girl, barely of an age to be a woman, in a pretty yellow sundress. She's in an alleyway, a tenement building partially bombed out behind her but the wall is still strong. This is her wall. She leans back against it and raises her sundress teasingly, completely in control, her beautiful, creamy pale skin flashing as several young boys, barely coming into their own as young men, gaze with wonder at whatever she's willing to reveal. They want her, but know not how - she can be satiated, but for now this is all she wants, all she desires from them. All four are happy with the arrangement, a shared connection, a glow suffusing them at the semi-forbidden act of revelation.

And other times I still see a broad-backed father, proud of his son newly come into his own as a man, even as his son still labors intensely. Even as his son breaks himself through the daily rigors of simply surviving. Even as his son suffers under loss and strain and his own poorly made, but accepted and survived choices. The father, too proud to cry. The son, too proud to ever return.

I know, generally speakin', what all these images mean. But sometimes it just goes through my head in random flashes, and they become significant because of that. Even though some of these scenes contain tropes that can be applied to my own august and inglorious self, they are not inexactly about me.

Sure, I can claim to be the old man, the son, the young teenagers coming into their sexuality. I can even claim to be the road and the darkness that seeks to beat down and destroy the relentless old man, the father that watches his son go through life's hardships yet can do nothing but hope, the beautiful young temptress simply basking in the plying of her craft, enjoying the attention of those around her, their eyes gracing her skin.

But I'm none of those.

Why, did you perhaps see something of yourself then? Curious.

Stone Bastard 1-7

I don't know, don't ask me. Just somethin' I wrote recently. Seems like my life has been full of ups and downs as of late, and as always there's the potential for so much to gain...but also the potential for even further disasters.

Nothing to do but to go forward with it. Yeap.

Instead of doling all seven pieces of this out, I figured meh, fuck it - just give it to you guys in one big gulp.

Swallow it all down, dear. There's still dessert, y'know?

Stone Bastard

#1

I died last night in my sleep.

I'm moving, I can feel my eyelids blink, my eyes move, my fingers twist.

But my back aches, and I can't hear my heart anymore.  It's quite strange, realizing how much our heart fills our ears, a background song that barely anyone recognizes.

My good ol' buddy ain't moving anymore, and I'm so cold.

So cold.


#2

I was dead as I walked about.

I see people going about their daily business, and appear to do so as well.

But I hurt, I hurt so much it burns.  My heart is dead, a stone rock within me, though I want neither food nor water nor rest.  The noise of the city fills me, but I still ache.

I'm just not me anymore, not really.  Don't know why, nor if I deserve this.

Hurts bad.


#3

I am dead, laying on my bed.

I'm still pretending to be alive, even now in the quiet of a restless night.

My neighbors are interesting, and the city never truly sleeps.  Like me it's a dead thing, but unlike me it's so noisy.  I can hear quite plainly the arguments and grumbling, the sounds of living, loving, hating. 

Hearing better.


#4

I have died, but I'm still here, ambulatory.

In a park, watching people as they go about their lives, unnoticed.

I miss this, miss being one of them.  My heart has stopped, its' thunderous noise replaced with the noise of others.  I don't like this, but I can get used to it.  Guess anyone can get used to anything.

Sitting still.


#5

How dead must I be, if I'm still here, still me?

A new, unsettling thought has entered my supposedly rotting brain.

My heart is dead, but I'm alive.  My body is dead, but I'm alive.  But I'm not different than others, not at all.  Perhaps I'm simply more aware of it now that I can't hear my own heart?  I have to figure this out more.

A frenzy.


#6

Now that I'm dead, I can see it visibly.

My options without a heartbeat, without a shadow.  So limited, yet so open to definition.

I'm dead, this is true.  I'm dead now, through and through.  Yet within the scheme of things, I have discovered a wondrous thing: worlds without end, choices to make and follow through with.

Time moves.


#7

Dead and buried, good and gone.

All is well 'twixt right and wrong.  If I'm there and I'm here, then from whence have I come?  Was I always like this?  Was I always only going through the motions?  Dead all the time?

Without reason and with plentiful joy do I now live, dead as I am.  To redefine my life as I am, to live as I wish, even as dead as I am.

My heart skipped a beat, that's all it did.  It's still dead, stone cold dead now.

But it plays, it PLAYS!  Such wonderful music as I've ever heard.

I heard it, I hear it.  The noise of the city, the noise in me.

Joyful, painful, and full of rage.  Loving, hating, fighting, needing.

And with each line do I make new rules, as I wish, wonton and willy-nilly.  Thither and hither, heckle and jeckle.

A world of my own.

This world of my wishes.

Do I need anything better than this, finer than this?  My palate is ablaze, my senses overloaded.

My heart is dead, my brain is aflame.

My tale does not end, even as I have already ended.  Perhaps yes, perhaps no.

But with each new line, I will continue.  With each line I will learn more, hear more, be more.  With or without my heart.

A Boot Shaped Poem Again

It's always the same thing, isn't it?
The dull grey that occurs afterwards
The hangover from emotional letdown
Always the same thing, time and again

Like a boot pressing down on your trachea
It'll fill you with wonder and light, only to hurt
To break, to rip and tear your very soul out, yet
We are constantly attempting to feel it again, unable
To differentiate between the true feeling or a facsimile
But rather, it's something that we seek, all of us, whether
Or not it's something that we actually need. In fact, some
of us are better off without it. So is it our biological endeavors
That pushes us to consistently try and try again? Are those who
Burn out and fail, never to try again, better off than we hopeless ones?
We romantics, sensitives, blind to the pain that even now haunts our weary
Hearts ?                                                Then let it be, and let it hurt, and simply
Do    as                                                  we can to let it hurt, to revel in that pain
and see                                                      to the pain never lessens or dulls, but
rather,                                                           that it hurts simply to remind us that
we are                                                           alive, a thing that we take for granted.