I came across these lyrics the other day. It absolutely amazed me.
Do you belong to a song?
Does it drag you along by the tongue at the top of your lungs?
Are you drunk?
Have you been drinking?
Do you belove the overpass go with a fifth in your fist
reminiscing the kiss of a love that just didn't love as much as you did?
But please don't give up dear walls.
Don't let the ceiling fall.
When you belong to a song, salty eyes.
You belong.
Shrill notes begin the grim violin.
Then from the silence of violence the sirens orchestrate the score.
To which one more corpse is left quiet.
How we've become the hollows of drums.
The rest between notes and the hollers that never reach throats.
Friends in quotes, they're not calling.
But please don't give up dear you.
I'm just the sliver moon sliding through
When you belong to a song, salty eyes.
You belong.
Do please believe however naive.
They may drag you along by the tongue at the top of your lungs.
And belong salty eyes.
When you belong to a song, salty eyes.
You belong.
-Salty Eyes, the Matches.
It almost feels as if the singer is speaking directly to me, and he really captures the anxiety I feel every day. The verse, "Friends in quotes, they're not calling," and "But please don't give up dear you" really give me hope, and make me feel as if I am not alone to face the world. I would recommend this band to anyone who likes good lyrics. Their live show is very personal, very amazing. The entire band reaches out to the crowd. Hope everyone is doing well with the start of school.
Oh, and to anyone who has read my "Detention" rant. The Dean in that story is NOT the dean we have at my school. Our dean is one of the most kind-hearted people I've ever met and I would never even consider him a tyrant. So there.
THE MATCHES SALTY EYES
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- Lauren
- I love to write, and am considering making it a career. Most likely will end up working in a cubicle filing tax recipts for a boss I hate. Amazing People: Eddie Izzard, Hayley Williams, Amanda Palmer, Edward Norton, Gerard Way, Matt Freeman, Dwight Schrute, Jim Halpert, Shirley Manson, Nisse Pedigo
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It's the birthday of memoirist Augusten Burroughs, (books by this author) born Christopher Robison in Pittsburgh (1965). He was 13 when his mother gave him up to be raised by her New Age psychiatrist, a man who believed in solving problems by poking his finger into the Bible at random and seeing what it said. Burroughs spent the next five years living in a pink Victorian mansion with the psychiatrist and his wife, their six children, and a number of live-in mental patients. Burroughs and the other children in the house had no supervision at all: They drank and took drugs, played with the electroshock therapy machine, and Burroughs was sexually abused by one of the psychiatrist's patients. He finally ran away, changed his name, got a high school degree, and became an advertising copywriter. But he said, "I really felt like my childhood, my past and my lack of any education was this extra, deformed leg I was dragging around behind me, trying to keep under my jacket." So he wrote a book about it, called Running with Scissors, which came out in 2002 and became a best-seller in part because Burroughs managed to make his horrific childhood experiences funny. His most recent book is the collection of essays Possible Side Effects, which came out this year (2007).
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