Thursday, January 27, 2005

What Am I, Twelve?

Here's where I become that girl who posts song lyrics on her blog. I promise I'll only do this once, and it's because I'm feeling very metaphorically attached to this song right now. I also swear I'll post something real. But, here it is nonetheless. Download it now: Death of a Salesman by Low.

So I took my guitar and I threw down some chords
and some words I could sing without shame,

and I soon had a song. I played it around
for some friends, but they all said the same.

They said music's for fools, you should go back to school--
the future is prisons and math.

So I did what they said, now my children are fed
'cause they pay me to do what I'm asked.

I forgot all my songs. The words now are wrong.
(And I burned my guitar in a rage.)

But the fire came to rest in your white velvet breast
so somehow I just know that it's safe.

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