My guitars loiter in Various corners
Like one armed Musicians
Wishing they had three
But I am uninspired
With no wish to be
Strung out over their
Hollow bodies breathing
Life into their petulant Silence
Their sound holes
Echo the darkness
In my soul
As my fingers press
Other keys of see
On this rec-tangled Instrument
That bids me write
The piano squats Upstairs
Its ivory teeth fixed
In inexpressive exposure
Its flat black cavities
Stand out sharply
Songs wait beneath
Its shuttered interior
Longing to be pressed
From the grape
Tips of my fingers
Into a fine whine of tenor
Blended with chords
But I am drunk on Despair
I found myself Abandoned here
Nine years ago
Exploring the wandering
Trails of other Songwriters minds
Till eventually I was also Entangled
It is a jungle out there
With beasts that devour
Each freshly birthed Lyrics as well as stone Heads that gaze
On all in front of them
But never reply
Much like Easter
Island's residents
There are the palms
Swaying over the keys
Fingers like fronds Thrashing daily offering Shaded warmth from
Any published hot air
There are predator Editors that hacksaw Their way through others Growth and there are Gods that praise the ones who dare sing out
The humble reside
Also in this jungle
But one would never know it
Audiences move on
Untouched by my Possibilities
Enamored by other songs
That whisper in the wee Hours to the more Prolific
As I sit wrapped in the Warmthof an old friend
Writing songs about
Lyrics denied me
Don't let anyone
Ever convince you
That being a songwriter
Is glamourous or even
Profitable
Art ~Whimsically Yours Studio-Matthew F. Blowers III - Interludes Of Silence. Lyrics
Art ~Whimsically Yours Studio-Matthew F. Blowers III - Interludes Of Silence. Lyrics
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
English
My guitars loiter in Various corners
Like one armed Musicians
Wishing they had three
But I am uninspired
With no wish to be
Strung out over their
Hollow bodies breathing
Life into their petulant Silence
Their sound holes
Echo the darkness
In my soul
As my fingers press
Other keys of see
On this rec-tangled Instrument
That bids me write
The piano squats Upstairs
Its ivory teeth fixed
In inexpressive exposure
Its flat black cavities
Stand out sharply
Songs wait beneath
Its shuttered interior
Longing to be pressed
From the grape
Tips of my fingers
Into a fine whine of tenor
Blended with chords
But I am drunk on Despair
I found myself Abandoned here
Nine years ago
Exploring the wandering
Trails of other Songwriters minds
Till eventually I was also Entangled
It is a jungle out there
With beasts that devour
Each freshly birthed Lyrics as well as stone Heads that gaze
On all in front of them
But never reply
Much like Easter
Island's residents
There are the palms
Swaying over the keys
Fingers like fronds Thrashing daily offering Shaded warmth from
Any published hot air
There are predator Editors that hacksaw Their way through others Growth and there are Gods that praise the ones who dare sing out
The humble reside
Also in this jungle
But one would never know it
Audiences move on
Untouched by my Possibilities
Enamored by other songs
That whisper in the wee Hours to the more Prolific
As I sit wrapped in the Warmthof an old friend
Writing songs about
Lyrics denied me
Don't let anyone
Ever convince you
That being a songwriter
Is glamourous or even
Profitable
Like one armed Musicians
Wishing they had three
But I am uninspired
With no wish to be
Strung out over their
Hollow bodies breathing
Life into their petulant Silence
Their sound holes
Echo the darkness
In my soul
As my fingers press
Other keys of see
On this rec-tangled Instrument
That bids me write
The piano squats Upstairs
Its ivory teeth fixed
In inexpressive exposure
Its flat black cavities
Stand out sharply
Songs wait beneath
Its shuttered interior
Longing to be pressed
From the grape
Tips of my fingers
Into a fine whine of tenor
Blended with chords
But I am drunk on Despair
I found myself Abandoned here
Nine years ago
Exploring the wandering
Trails of other Songwriters minds
Till eventually I was also Entangled
It is a jungle out there
With beasts that devour
Each freshly birthed Lyrics as well as stone Heads that gaze
On all in front of them
But never reply
Much like Easter
Island's residents
There are the palms
Swaying over the keys
Fingers like fronds Thrashing daily offering Shaded warmth from
Any published hot air
There are predator Editors that hacksaw Their way through others Growth and there are Gods that praise the ones who dare sing out
The humble reside
Also in this jungle
But one would never know it
Audiences move on
Untouched by my Possibilities
Enamored by other songs
That whisper in the wee Hours to the more Prolific
As I sit wrapped in the Warmthof an old friend
Writing songs about
Lyrics denied me
Don't let anyone
Ever convince you
That being a songwriter
Is glamourous or even
Profitable
Writer: Matthew Blowers III
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid