Tuesday, August 30, 2005
The captain's fame
The guns are put asidebut the war started in the soldier's mind
the soldier will live a war
regretting why he'd go so far
crying for the hearts he's torn
picturing the babies who could be born
he'll live a life filled with grief
can't do nothing to get relieved
He's surrendered to sorrow and pain
he begs for someone to cut his vein
to cut him loose from this chain
this chain of guilt, the captain called fame
Human melancholy
Underneath every sadness in my life lies a comparison. I don't know if this ability of comparing is instinct or yet another societal embedment. The comparison of having or not, being or not, believing or not... living or not. These are all my capabilities and my mind is in chaos for them. For my mind will be in peace in the absence of my capabilities, in the absence of me perhaps. Yes "Our biggest tragedy in life is when we're born."1 We can not rid ourselves from the ability of comparing, for underneath every happiness in our lives there lies a comparison.
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1. NietzchieBang bang she shot me down....
She carved me to my bones with all that judgment. She stepped all over my heart, over all that love I had for her. She stepped all over my pride. But you're right, fuck pride because it only hurts. But it wasn't my pride that was hurt. It was how she stepped on it. She stepped on it the very same way we step on leaves in the fall, compliment the ones ahead of us which are about to be stepped on and don't even bother to look back to see what we've done.
I guess she's just too hungry for it. She strives to keep it. She said "you'll live an animal's life-style without it". She told me since I don't have a god, then I definately need it. She told me that everyone else has it. She envies others when she sees it in them. She said a life without it is empty, pointless and finished.
I listened on and on. I watched my heart get torn apart. I said "baby this is art; what you're doing to my heart". I never knew I'd fall in love with someone of her kind. And the game didn't stop, for the night was very long.
You wounded my heart and while pounding on it, you told me I didn't have a god. But sadly enough you were my only god and you didn't even know it. You were my god but you had turned your back on me just the very same way God did to Jesus and let him be crossed. You wounded my heart real deep. Deep enough so it would never stop bleeding. I bled and I prayed. I prayed to the angles to cut my vein for my life was filled with pain.