Something Diffrent..
#41
01-20-2008, 04:40 AM
Originally Posted by Slimland
A troubled mind from a memory past, I wonder what would have been.
I wished upon a star, the past to do again. I would have listened to your cry, the pain, the broken heart. Now I sit just a memory, pause-replay-and start. I daydream about you, and what might have been. Would have we been happy, would have we been friends? Would it been long lasting, a fary tale come true? What would have been if I had listend to you? A wonder- a shot- a sting. I thought I was just a fling. We didn't talk untill that day. Then you quikly walked away. You said you would've been all mine. If I had only took the time. Now only my memory flows. Little clips and picture shows. I daydream about you, and what might have been. Would have we been happy, would have we been friends? Would it been long lasting, a fary tale come true? What would have been if I had listend to you? You said you would have married me. Forever true you would be. Now I am just a memory past. I hope at least that will last. I daydream about you, and what might have been. Would have we been happy, would have we been friends? Would it been long lasting, a fary tale come true? What would have been if I had listend to you? By Slimland 1-18-08 9:21PM 
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You can twist perceptions Reality won't budge You can raise objections I will be the judge And the jury Neil Peart
#42
01-20-2008, 04:03 PM
I might think of them, but your the one who has my heart.
I might look at them, but in my eye your the twinkle and spark. I might fantasis, but you are my dreams. A single piece of clothing your the thread and I the seam. Respect and Love, that is what we are. Respect and Love, the road is long and far. Respect and Love, your the neck and I the Head. Respect and Love, that is the way we make our homestead. I cant fulfill all your wishes. But I can help you with the dishes. Life will never be fair. But I can help you highlight your hair. dreams may never come true. But mine did, and I love you. Respect and Love, that is what we are. Respect and Love, the road is long and far. Respect and Love, your the neck and I the Head. Respect and Love, that is the way we make our homestead. We joke, we play, together to stay. We seek, we find, infront-behind. Through joy and gladness, happyness and sadness. From finish to start, until death do us part. Respect and Love, that is what we are. Respect and Love, the road is long and far. Respect and Love, your the neck and I the Head. Respect and Love, that is the way we make our homestead. By Slimland 1-20-08 11:03
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You can twist perceptions Reality won't budge You can raise objections I will be the judge And the jury Neil Peart
#44
01-28-2008, 03:32 AM
Originally Posted by Trukrswyfe
Slim, did you ever get notes to go with these songs?
I can make music, but then I find it hard to put lyrics to it.. So it is a rock and a hard place. I need help! I though if Hog could do it, he could just put the cords down here for me, and I could figure it out. I am glad you responded to this thread, I realy wished someothers would, I like to see other peoples writings and see what there inspired by through the lyrics. Slimland
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You can twist perceptions Reality won't budge You can raise objections I will be the judge And the jury Neil Peart
#45
01-28-2008, 03:38 AM
Just so you know I cant sing or write one lick. I am looking to get the guitar hero just for fun, I just love sounds, they fill me, my head, I love to wake up with a song already playing, and fall asleep to one too.
Music soothes my soul, all kinds I guess, I love David too, as a warrior and a song writer musician, I think everyones life is a song, I hope mine is a good one
#46
01-28-2008, 04:01 AM
This aint no song, but it is somethin I wrote while waitin to load a pallet of carrots at bolthouse in Bakersfield.
Sir? We have been with you since the beginning. From Long island to Monmouth. We have suffered many defeats and few victories. We have marched till our feet have bled and, still we march. Four days we have not seen any flesh nor flour. For two days we have not anything to drink. The snow is so thin upon the ground that there, is not enough to collect. Many of us have only torn breeches to cover ourselves. Our muskets lack flint and ball. Loyalists have burned out our families. Many do not know if yet they still live. Sir? We have forsaken our families. We have forsaken our king. We have starved. And we have died. For you Sir! Not for liberty. Not for independence. Not for congress. But for you Sir! Son? Where is your captain? Where is the rest of your company? And why do you lay these burdens, upon my shoulders. And why do you speak of "WE" when, it is only you? Sir. I am the captain. The lieutenant. The corporal. And the company. I am all that is left. Do not be angry with me sir. I thought you ought to know that, it is "YOU" we do this for.
#47
01-28-2008, 04:44 AM
Here is another
The Field Disciplined ranks stand in straight lines. Sun glistens off brass and steel. Thousands of men and boys face one another. Boys quest for glory. Men quest for life. Thunder signals the beginning. The order FORWARD! is given. Hearts beat fast for what is to come. Drummer boys sound the cadence from the rear. Bayonets lowered. The line moves forward. Officers shout orders. The first rank kneels before the second. The double line fires. The third and fourth ranks move through, the standing and over the fallen. The maneuver is repeated over and over again. Always moving forward. The musket and cannon fire is deafening. Cannon balls bounce across the field separating, men and boys from limbs and life. Grapeshot blasts the souls from whole ranks. Men and boys on both sides fall like wheat, before the scythe. The order CHARGE! is given. Sabers and pistols are drawn. The sound of thousands of screaming men and boys, drowns out the musket and cannon. The two sides converge on one another. Sabers flash! Pistols crack! Skulls are crushed from the butt of the musket. Cold is the steel of the bayonet, as men and boys, are run through. Finally one side throws the other off. The orderly retreat soon becomes a route. Some just give up right there. Some drop everything and stumble off to the wood. Sporadic musket fire continues for a time. Soon the field is quiet cept for the moans and, crying of the wounded and dying. This once quiet field of life has become a field of death. But soon this field of death will become a field of life agian. History will honor the victor. Tallies of the dead, wounded, missing, and captured. The orders given. The strategies used will be all that is remembered. But who was the victor? The ones who lived to tell? The ones who had to live with the memories? Or the ones who never made it off the field?
#48
01-28-2008, 04:47 AM
and another
The sound of Death The cocking of muskets. The drawing of sabers. The fixing of bayonets. Booming cannon. Cavalry hoof beats. Thousands of firing muskets. Thousands of screaming men. The wail of the wounded. The sound of the surgeons saw. The sound of the wind through, grass as you take your final breaths. Are these the sounds of Death? For you brother these are the sounds of life. The sound of death is silence.
#49
01-28-2008, 10:42 AM
IronTurkey I like these, and it don't have to be a song.
These are realy detailed, I take it you have an interest in stuff like the civil war.. You tell the storie, and I can see it.. That is what I am talking about.. You can do that in music, lyrics, poetry, and story's.. I think you have a real talent here. But I must say the inspiration being so specific, of what time period of war, I find very interesting.. Well Done.
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You can twist perceptions Reality won't budge You can raise objections I will be the judge And the jury Neil Peart
#50
01-29-2008, 11:52 PM
Originally Posted by Ironturkey
This aint no song, but it is somethin I wrote while waitin to load a pallet of carrots at bolthouse in Bakersfield.
Sir? We have been with you since the beginning. From Long island to Monmouth. We have suffered many defeats and few victories. We have marched till our feet have bled and, still we march. Four days we have not seen any flesh nor flour. For two days we have not anything to drink. The snow is so thin upon the ground that there, is not enough to collect. Many of us have only torn breeches to cover ourselves. Our muskets lack flint and ball. Loyalists have burned out our families. Many do not know if yet they still live. Sir? We have forsaken our families. We have forsaken our king. We have starved. And we have died. For you Sir! Not for liberty. Not for independence. Not for congress. But for you Sir! Son? Where is your captain? Where is the rest of your company? And why do you lay these burdens, upon my shoulders. And why do you speak of "WE" when, it is only you? Sir. I am the captain. The lieutenant. The corporal. And the company. I am all that is left. Do not be angry with me sir. I thought you ought to know that, it is "YOU" we do this for. So can I please? Slimland 8)
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You can twist perceptions Reality won't budge You can raise objections I will be the judge And the jury Neil Peart |
