Post by Laura on May 7, 2006 20:27:39 GMT -6
a/n: lately I can only write about love...wrote this while listening to Soil's album "Redefine" the songs Pride, Redefine, and Can You Heal Me?
Middle of Me (my musician is the storm, the light, the GOD)
yes,
I can say it clearly
you are my superhero
spinning in and out of control
evoking the tornadoes
--because if you declare war
you will surely win--
your hair is more furious when you're angry
fighting against a microphone, where your voice lingers
and yes,
I can say it fondly
at first sight we were one
you corrupting your guitar
like it was your slave
"but it is my baby"
echoes -
travels from your tongue to my ears
through the bloodstream
your fascination reminds me of the love I'm searching for
an empty room is only worth filling
if you're in it.
you are picking up your feet
now,
raging back and forth
creating terror, for the stage it is your canvas
and your shoes they are the paint
once you're gone,
dirty patterns from a sole,
fingerprints from when you collapsed
are all that are left
and if you scream
your words of anguish
because you were tormented
and that past
still haunts you
I will be here to vanish that agony
in a second, you will be relieved
yes,
I can say it proudly
I inspire your words
your fingers to make the strings dance
I inspire the thoughts
that pass through your head
to your mouth to the paper
and yes,
I can say it -
however you want me to
soft, softer, softest
because you could provoke an avalanche
--stand right in its path
and you would divide it--
right down the middle.
Middle of Me (my musician is the storm, the light, the GOD)
yes,
I can say it clearly
you are my superhero
spinning in and out of control
evoking the tornadoes
--because if you declare war
you will surely win--
your hair is more furious when you're angry
fighting against a microphone, where your voice lingers
and yes,
I can say it fondly
at first sight we were one
you corrupting your guitar
like it was your slave
"but it is my baby"
echoes -
travels from your tongue to my ears
through the bloodstream
your fascination reminds me of the love I'm searching for
an empty room is only worth filling
if you're in it.
you are picking up your feet
now,
raging back and forth
creating terror, for the stage it is your canvas
and your shoes they are the paint
once you're gone,
dirty patterns from a sole,
fingerprints from when you collapsed
are all that are left
and if you scream
your words of anguish
because you were tormented
and that past
still haunts you
I will be here to vanish that agony
in a second, you will be relieved
yes,
I can say it proudly
I inspire your words
your fingers to make the strings dance
I inspire the thoughts
that pass through your head
to your mouth to the paper
and yes,
I can say it -
however you want me to
soft, softer, softest
because you could provoke an avalanche
--stand right in its path
and you would divide it--
right down the middle.