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Old-skool 4 lyfe. <3
Join Date: 7th Nov 02
Location: Bayside.
Age: 23
Posts: 16,682
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Just some stuff.
This is the new year.
When I was about 5 years old, I asked my mum if my next-door neighbour was my father,
I never asked again, I just remembered a man with a moustache lifting me up on a chair;
I grew up knowing something was missing, but I had a dad that loved me like a daughter.
Scouring photographs from years ago to look for a moustache that I couldn't find anywhere.
12 years later and with a hero falling, I wondered if you'd ever cared about my sister and I.
I never questioned what I was never told because I was childishly scared of the reasons why
the ommision was so obvious. He told me things I was too terrified to hear, I was too young.
I never listened, I never went home half the time; I selfishly resented being the only one
that knew the things that he was telling me. I felt awkward in his prescence. I made up lies
so that I wouldn't have to come home to him and see the stranger that had stolen his eyes.
I found excuses, extra classes, dates that couldn't be missed, so we wouldn't have to be alone,
it sickens me to say I doubted him for a second, and didn't want to be with him on my own.
Before he told me his secrets, we had some of the best times that we ever had together,
I'm glad that we made those memories before they could be tainted and stained forever.
He taught me the secret of punk rock and to laugh at stupid cartoon shows,
he was the one who taught me how that 'Smoke on the Water' riff goes.
He'd pull up in the driveway and I'd wrench open the door before the car was stopped,
just to get a hug and kiss and tell him about my day. Soon enough all of that stopped.
Now I'm just waiting to give you gifts that I hope show you how much I care everyday,
And I hope I can make you as proud as I've always wanted to make him in some way.
I never counted on you being around, never thought of it at all,
but now you're just on the other end of a letter or a phonecall.
Uncles and aunties, step-mums and grandads - this all seems so hard to grasp.
I never dreamt that I'd have any of this to try to comprehend, I never thought to ask.
Now I find out you're just the same as me, I know who to blame for the way that I turned out.
I have to say that I'm proud to be your blood, proud of you and how you made this turn out.
All of your letters are in their seperate packets in a folder full of things that make me smile;
comics and childish drawings I have no reason for keeping, but I'll keep 'em for a while.
Pictures and poems on my wall that do you no justice at all, but they're beautiful to me
'cause they're from you, and when I wake in the morning, they're the first things that I see.
A photo in a green frame 'cause that's your team's colours, and we'll make a good team,
and a rosette on a photo album that I hope to fill 'til it's full enough to burst at it's seams.
This is the new year, a time for new beginnings and new starts,
a time for healing the fresh skin and wounds over shiny old scars.
To see you more than twice is what I've resolved to do,
you can count on it - any chance I get, I'll be up to see you.
I want you for the memories; walk me down the aisle, hold my kids,
make me smile any chance you get, and please always remember this -
I love you more than you know. I love you more than I will ever be able to tell you.
You have changed me in so many ways, and I'm a better person since I've known you.
I blame insomnia.
It's one and a half turns to lock the door,
and three steps and a turn to wind up in your head.
Sometimes it seems easier to want even more,
but I always end up too hot sleeping in your bed.
I read stupid comics and do my best to keep them in their sleeves,
I read awesome books, but I don't always know what they mean.
Walking the streets when I can't close my eyes, when I know you hate that;
headphones in my ears make sure that I'm not alone. I know you'd hate that.
But you know I don't always have to want to have my dreams lying there beside you,
My foibles make me glad that I'm alive, can you do the same? Do I want you to?
I'm tired of being okay and rolling down my sleeves when you want me to seem alright.
I can't always be like that, and I won't blame you for thoughts of walking away.
I'm tired of sleeping with the lights on and sharing the knife. I'm tired of being oh so right.
Curl me up in your arms, and I'll dream of the apathy that's wearing me away.
I'm giving up being the one who makes everything all safe again,
too much responsibility crowds my brain all over and over again.
The trick is to never grow up and to jump out when you get too deep,
like after three and a half years, right on the corner of our old street.
Pick out the chords playing in my head,
do your best to make me nervous again.
A pinball machine and kids' toys lit up a by a touch-lamp globe,
they look so huge, casting shadows in this gentle, careful glow.
I admit that I'm quick to make mistakes, and I don't always take the blame,
but flying planes isn't going to make make me want to change my name.
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Make me a mixtape that makes me yours;
don't leave out Husker Du,
put something on that The Cars did in 1982.
It makes me yours.
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and it turns the word G.a.r.b.a.g.e into rubbish and H.i.g.h Way into motor way and G.a.s station into Petro station and so on and so fourth.
Linear Mode
