Another novel idea that I'm started, setting aside the vivid imagery and excessive stylistic woos of my other.
I don't know if the new one's as much a novel as a lengthy, uh, insightful piece intertwined with my cynical, selfish philosophy.
"Anchor" by Cave In
Whatever makes you tired, the resting always fails.
'Cause anywhere you lay yourself's a bed of nails.
Whatever you exhale, I breathe in the end.
You offer me a seat in your electric chair.
(Chorus)
Are you safe to leave behind
Every anchor in your mind?
You know me better than I do,
So pull me in.
Every day you ask yourself, "Why was I born?"
'Cause every migraine feels like wearing a crown of thorns.
And all the time I find you crawling on all fours,
'Cause any movement sends you falling through trap doors.
(Chorus, x2)
No tongue in cheek.
Too late, it's already days and weeks
Before we can make ends meet.
Am I right and you're wrong?
Too late, it already takes too long.
Too much to be flushed with you.
Ooooh.
Too much to be flushed with you.
(Chorus, x3)