Being Content With Scribbles
Endless scribbles in my mind
repeating broadcasts all the time
the same old child running clips
there’s no order to the rift.
My mind functions like a dream
running ream after ream
and although wine matures with age
the way I work will always be the same.
All that has changed is what I reject
I no longer give finger paint it’s respect
not every day is a trip to the zoo
not until the lights are out am I in tune.
Always searching for more sense
having to scramble for every cent
all to discover by the end of the day
that these simple scribbles wont go away
- wbrown's blog
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good stuff
ok, first of all, this is awesome and will you go to winter ball with me?
haha, anyway. the second stanza, i really like the message and the imagery associated with it, however im not sure how it well it works overall. "my mind functions like a dream" is kind of vague, how does a dream function? be more explicit. "wine matures with age", you're talking about writing and dreams, and then wine comes into it? great great comparison, just connect it to the material more.
i think the last paragraph is the best thing i've seen yet of the stuff you've uploaded.
thanks man
hah it's lyrics for a new song I'm making John sing. That's why the wine line is in there. This poem was made just because I needed lyrics, and I kinda did it right on the spot so it might not make so much sense.
Oh, and I'd love to go to winter ball with you....except I'm busy.
oh word?
can i get a 5 measure trumpet solo between parts 3 and 4?