Your eyes tell me all is fine
Instinct tells me otherwise
I leap and cling and tumble
Fall, pretending I can fly.

I reached, but never far enough
I see what vanity has done
And you can hold me all you want
I’m falling down, I’m falling down
I am what you have made me
And this parachute can’t save me
I’m telling you now
It won’t be pretty when I hit the ground.

Falling quick in helpless spin
Razored air is choking me
Caught between the endless rock
And uncertain blue infinity.

Cord is trapped just out of hand
Frantic movements strangle peace
Close my eyes to breathe again
And I know what these moments mean.

I reached, but never far enough
I see what vanity has done
And you can hold me all you want
I’m falling down, I’m falling down
I am what you have made me
And this parachute can’t save me
I’m telling you now
It won’t be pretty when I hit the ground.

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OHHH

I was a baby bunny with two ears and a tail
But now I’m dead, the life has left my eyes.
I’d rather be out jumping, and digging for some roots
But now I’m dead, and someone else’s boots.

Don’t cry for me, Momma
Don’t look for me, Dad
Don’t give yourself more pain than you could bear
Besides, you won’t look far
Because I’m always close
Just don’t look down- I’m some mean girl’s clothes.

OHHHH MOMMAAAAA

Life is oh so short for bunnies like myself
Just when you’re born, they come and skin your tail
Who’d think it’d be a fashion? Like 20’s smoking suits
Except all they did was make me into boots.

Oh brother! They caught up to you!
Oh sister! They murdered you too!
Oh Grandma! Why’d you have to die?
Just ‘cuz they wanted four tails on their laces, ‘stead of mine!

WHOOAAAAAA

I guess it was my time
Every bunny has to die
I won’t shed a tear for my short life.
But if you turn an sympathic ear
Please pass some laws to stop the brutes
Else we’ll all end up as someone else’s boots.

Don’t wanna be some human being’s boots.

The post I Used To Be Four Bunnies (But Now I’m Someone’s Boots) appeared first on Of Psychology and Psychosomatics.

Okay, well, for instance: Currently, I can find no better way to express myself than through music. And being some sort of artist-type person, I like to pretend I can play the guitar, and I like to think I am reasonably skilled in writing, as far as jotting random philosophical thoughts down on an internet blog. However, I am not a musician, nor am I a songwriter, so the results of my labored sonnetry are completely inadequate. And so, because of this, I often wish I was “good” at songwriting, and also playing instruments.

Alright, now alternately, the Elton John/Bernie Taupin team has been writing music and lyrics for songs since 1967, and have put out arguably good material for almost as long. I can probably say without too much critique that, other than the regular singles from each album, most of the songs Taupin writes are pretty bad. I mean, purposeless and meaningless, and full of empty words. John is a gifted musician, and Taupin is definitely a gifted wordsmith, but he uses his gift to just…write music (and make gads of money). If something you’re “good at” isn’t used to its full potential, it really manges to go to waste, doesn’t it? Suddenly, despite being “good” at something, the outcome of that something can be bad.

So now for the token question: Is it better to be really “good” at doing, or making, or being something, and have a less-than-adequate product as a result; or is it better to be that guy singin’ off-key on his poorly-tuned instrument to badly-timed chord repetitions at your local coffeehouse, but actually meaning what he’s singing, and making you tear up anyway?

I’m making a point here. Obviously, it’s possible to be both. Elton is a bad example.

The post Good appeared first on Of Psychology and Psychosomatics.

Just so you know, I don’t
So preach to me your love
In case you thought, I won’t
Until I’m holding you, love
My love.

Say you’ll cry out
Above the noise
Across the waves
Reach your hands, reach
Embracing only what we are
And fall apart, fall apart
Heavy eyes and fingers
Shout my name, your name

Just to clarify, I can’t
Look around, look, my love
In simple terms, it never is
So look to me, look, my love
Love.

The post Above the Noise appeared first on Of Psychology and Psychosomatics.

Don’t wait up, don’t wait up
I’ll be along, so don’t wait up
Just let me catch my breath.

–

Dying to be living at your side
Laughing now, because I know you’re mine
Now suddenly, my feet can dance
I’ll swing you in this sweet romance
And hold you tight, completely satisfied.

Don’t slow down, don’t slow down
I’ll hold you tight, so don’t slow down
I’m completely satisfied.

–

The day is done, and now I have to leave
Come close, bestow your special hug on me
We lock eyes, and crack the door
How about one more for the road?
The car can wait, I’ll leave eventually.

Don’t let go, don’t let go
The car can wait, so don’t let go
I guess I’ll leave eventually.

Don’t let go, don’t let go
Don’t wait up, we’ll take it slow
I’ll catch up to you eventually.

– – – – – – –

D G D
D G A
Em A G Bm
G A D

G A Em
G Bm
G A D

The post Catch My Breath appeared first on Of Psychology and Psychosomatics.

The fellowship you used to have became this fellow’s grave.
Your peace of mind is breaking into pieces you can’t save.
If what you wanted looked like this
Then maybe you should look a bit
And change the way you’re living it
‘Cause you aren’t doing fine.

In case you still can’t see, I’ll rest my case on one account.
Despite the hypocritical, the double-stand, the doubt.
Only Love can heal your cynic’s soul
Your heel will crush the serpent’s goal
Lift your head, and you will know
That you will do just fine.

The post Fine appeared first on Of Psychology and Psychosomatics.

Alone. Alone is all we fathom.
Left behind with hope, forever.
Apart. Apart from what we cherish.
Every line to save, we sever.

The lies. The lies will kill us all.
Seem to choke my life away.
The pain. The pain keeps me from sleep.
Twisted hurt regenerates.

A voice. A voice that cuts through dark.
Shatters misery and hate.
A light. A light to bring me warmth.
This hidden path, illuminate.

The fight. The fight to conquer me.
No more in human will I trust.
The Truth. The Truth will set you free.
Scaly blindfolds turn to dust.

The post A Call to Something Greater appeared first on Of Psychology and Psychosomatics.

Verses: A – E – Dsus2 – G/B
Choruses: Dsus2 – A, Dsus2 – G/B – Dsus2 – E – A

* * * * *

Fault lines in the asphalt ground
Snow caught in the cracks below
Melted mass of frozen pounds
Weighing down the river’s load.

Floating on the tumbling storm
Weary in a restless state
Terrified of shadowed forms
Gasping still with breath abate.

The earth is dead, its surface, dark
Stray life is cut with spiteful blade
Alone remains a hopeful ark
To reach it, sacrifices made.

Winter winds can’t chill my soul
And some things you will never know
But stay with me for now
Together, alone.

Tempered steel will not suffice
The gates I’ve built aren’t meant to break
Nothing but your heart’s entice
Can frighten off dread fear’s embrace.

The falling ice envelopes all
And you can cower here with me
My heart is hard, but through its walls
Life can still push mightily.

Your faith is all I seek, and yet
You’ve given me much better still
Unknowing, safety keeps me set
But your love is what breaks my will.

Demons in the roads pursue
And all the world could shatter you
But you are not alone

Fearful wrath burns in your eyes
And loveliness intensifies
I give my heart in peace
And make the sacrifice.

The post Fault Lines appeared first on Of Psychology and Psychosomatics.

Clench my hands
Won’t release
Hold too tight
Turn from me.

Still my hands
Search for peace
Find my God
Comfort me.

Lift my hands
Doubtings cease
Fall in love
Under me.

Loose my hands
Smooth the crease
Watch it go
Far from me.

Drop my hands
Dry the fleece
God is all
No more me.

The post Dry the Fleece appeared first on Of Psychology and Psychosomatics.

My God, I am forever spinning.
Surviving on a needle’s head (this living has no life in it)
Finish strong running, get out of bed.
Give up.

So you think a battle wakes you up?
A war of greedy magistrate.
Questions asked from little people.
Answers gleaned from paperweight.

Truth couldn’t break you.
Love is not a choice.
And even when your life is over
Your bones still have a voice.

(don’t steal this. it’s copyrighted. go make up your own song during college economics.)

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