Saturday, June 6, 2009

Driving on the ways of the high and free

"keep breathing, my angel, if you go down I go with you
keep breathing, just keep breathing"


I love those lyrics. Mayday Parade has a special way of making each of their songs, everyone else's song also. I think that's what I look for most in music. Sure, I love a good beat. I love a song that can make me "do the Helen Keller and talk with [my] hips." There are some songs that have absolutely no meaning to me, but sure are fun to turn up loudly with the windows down. But what captures me most about music is the lyrics. If I can relate to a song, I'm hooked. Even if I can't relate, but the writer does such a good job that I feel like I can relate, then it's golden. Bjork said, "It's my job to be emotional. Doctors cure diseases and shoemakers make shoes. It's my job to go through emotions and describe them to other people." Aside from the fact that she is an amazing singer, I think she's dead on with that. I'm addicted to the lyrics that draw me in and spill my heart.



Let's play oblivious
as we dance around the big, gray elephant in the room.
Pay no mind
when your elbow bumps its leg,
when its tusk pokes your side.
If you pretend it's not there,
then it's not.
...right?
If you pretend I'm not there,
then I'm not.
...right?

---

Hey you, with the swollen heart, don't you know when to stop? You wore your heart on your sleeve, you let every thought in that pretty little head roll right out of your mouth; don't you know when to stop? Stitch up the past, sweep it into the darkest corner of your closet, only to be returned to on the gloomiest of days when nostalgia seems just right. Quiet your weeping, ocean eyes, sleep will come soon.


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