Zorba the Hutt (zorbathut) wrote,
Zorba the Hutt

  • Music:
Somewhere there's speaking
It's already coming in
Oh and it's rising at the back of your mind
You never could get it
Unless you were fed it
Now you're here and you don't know why

But under skinned knees and the skid marks
Past the places where you used to learn
You howl and listen
Listen and wait for the
Echoes of angels who won't return

You're waiting for someone
To put you together
You're waiting for someone to push you away
There's always another
wound to discover
There's always something more you wish she'd say

But you'll just sit tight
And watch it unwind
It's only what you're asking for
And you'll be just fine
With all of your time
It's only what you're waiting for

Out of the island
Into the highway
Past the places where you might have turned
You never did notice
But you still hide away
The anger of angels who won't return


I don't know what I'm doing, really . . . blah, it makes no sense when I try to write it. Spirals off in too many directions. Writing is essentially one-dimensional, as are all basic data structures . . . I think I need another dimension here.

     /--------- life ---------\
    /            |             \
    |            |             |
    V            V             V
loneliness  construction   rebuilding
    |            |             |
    |            |             |
    V            |             |
  trust <------- | ---------- how?
    | |          |             |
    | \          |             |
    |  \         V             |
    |   \----> murphy          |
    |            |             |
    |            |             |
    V            |             |
 physical <----- | --------- beauty
 contact         |             |
    |            |             |
    \----------\ | /-----------/
               V V V

I think that works.


I cannot take this anymore
I'm saying everything I've said before
All these words they make no sense
I find bliss in ignorance
Less I hear the less you'll say
But you'll find that out anyway

I find the answers aren't so clear
Wish I could find a way to disappear
All these thoughts they make no sense
I find bliss in ignorance
Nothing seems to go away
Over and over again

(just like before)


it doesn't seem to hurt anymore.

I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.
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