Situations.

Picture From: http://www.gangstersout.com/rage-against-the-machine.jpg

Sets you free sometimes...

People ask me why I listen to screamo, and heavy metal music. I tell them it's expression; although THEY can't understand it because of the ambiguity of the scream, it's another language to learn. Loud, and screamed is how it should be expressed; such strong and heavy hearted messages is what the final product projects through the essence of its music.

It calms me down. It's strange how music of hate, of rage, of passion can calm down such an angry soul. I guess it's a relation to situations, well, at least for the songs I listen to. I don't have a real music type/genre. I listen to songs that tell me a story, through the black and white notes on the guitar strings, through the heart beat of the drum, and the soul-drilling bass in context through the lyrics projected by a voice. They make you move, physically, and mentally.

It's pain, it's healing, it's revolution.

It's war, it's peace, it's cutting.

It's not a thought, and it's not something you can touch.

It's power, it's a weapon, it's a tool that is used by manipulators.

Music is the sounds that make you feel something, for life without sound in the soul, is like lighting fires with no air.

You spark, nothing else. Frictions that frustratingly try to set fire to something just tire and exhaust you. It's what you can channel.

I channel my rage through music, and is dispersed in a soulful way. I'm free, without physical intervention. Without it, I'd be mad.

The Missing Scene

Inspired by the video-clips - "Darling," by Eyes Set To Kill, "Vermillion Part 2," by Slipknot and the song "Romance Is Dead," by Parkway Drive.

Picture from: http://musicmedia.ign.com/music/image/vermilion4inline_092004_1095716151.jpg

In the darkest hours of our darkest times, I tear my hair out.

I want you to breathe to me, slowly, slowly now.

Let me know you're still alive.

Don't worry about me, I'm only dieing,

Dieing to reassure you that no one else has walked this far with me.

To a place best forgotten...

You mean everything to me, a factor too large to comprehend.

A myth that I have to believe in.

A heart that leaked and covered me.

Please just stitch our mouths shut now,

And let our eyes do the talking.

Glazed with the sounds of plucking strings, scratchy violins,

...and strokes from blood-stained paint brushes...

I can't let this build up inside of me.

All I need is one more reason to make us real,

But slowly the whole world is tearing it up in my eyes.

I watch every god-damned soul around me,

They wouldn't know love if it hit them in the chest,

And tore their hearts open just to see what's inside.

That's all they're looking for,

An opening to someone,

Or someone to fill it.

A bond of eternity is rare,

No one seems to see,

They just listen to the radio sounds of Sex, Drugs, and Violence.

They say a week is reasonable,

A month, spectacular,

But a year? Un-spoken in their tongue.

Our love story is ripped off a song that is forgotten,

Details different, but a song never sung again,

Only lingering off the tears on our lips, yearning to be screamed.

But what of this storm?

Are you being swept away?

Floating whimsically to the north?

I don't know what to do.

I'm chasing a plastic bag in the rain,

Weighed down by water, but pushed aside by the wind.

Don't lie to me,

I know you hurt,

Because I feel it too, scratching at the temples of my skull.

There's still yet to talk about my missing scene,

Where it is,

Why it's not here.

Reason it's missing is because we haven't made it,

I'm just trying to edit the next few pages,

From the script of eternity.

Writing piece by: Symon Taylor

I don't know. Just something written on the spur of the moment.