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Pink



Pink stood by the mantleshelf,

Head bowed to express himself,

Nothing ventured, nothing gained,

Nothing new is born this day,

Same old depressive thoughts,

Merely amount to naught.



Think man, think, break the block,

You've got to write another song,

The fans wait eagerly to hear

Another melancholy air.

Reach out into the darkness,

Into the catacombs of your madness.



Pluck some sorrow from your heart,

Words of death, that's a start,

It sets you on your morbid way,

I can feel something new today,

It waits on the tip of your pen,

Stare into space and write it man!



Troubled thoughts, that's the spirit,

Immerse your troubled soul in it,

Wash your mind in dirty sleaze,

Embrace this social disease,

Inject the poison in your veins,

It'll make you feel like shit again!



Embrace your morbid silhouette,

Dance your cold dance with Death,

Feel his boney fingers crawl,

Down your skin, to break your balls,

He's laughing as you cower in fear

From another tuneless nightmare.



Inject venom into your veins,

To give you strength to entertain,

Hear your audience scream your name

Their pumping plethora of blood seems strange,

Guts and gore, spilled on the stage,

Should fire up your guitar's rage.



Stare blankly into space,

Strike a guitar note with grace,

Play your melancholy tune,

Lead those kids to rack and ruin,

Kill them all, blow them all away.

Pink performed well today!



borloff

The Cemetery



Does she remember me,

The way that we used to be?

I swear I saw her standing

Alone in the cemetery.

Was it really her,

Or was it simply a ghost?

I can't be completely sure,

But I feel she is always close.



She wore her black bridal gown,

And held a bouquet of poppies,

Her smile was sullen, almost a frown,

Her eyes as dark as the deepest seas.

She wore a veil of winter mist,

It clung to her like a shroud,

Enveloped in it's silken host

She seemed to float above the ground.



I called her name, she looked at me,

Staring through her tears,

Lost in thoughts of melancholy,

The blackest eyed blank stare.

Was her mind trained on thoughts of us,

Or merely lost in another time?

Maybe she remains in the past,

A past that is no longer mine?



If I could turn back the pages

To where my story began,

Way back to the very beginning,

To rewrite and start again,

Then I would write her a love song

To show her what she meant to me,

I would put to rights, all the wrongs,

That brought about her misery.



In another time, another era,

Almost beyond the boundary of memory,

Only a whisp of which I remember,

A fleeting glimpse of what might have been,

If only I hadn't lost her,

If only I knew why she left,

Then maybe I could keep us together,

Safe from the clutches of Death.



But now when I look to the furture,

I see a life spent alone,

And no more in time shall I hold her,

I'll just hang around the cemetery to mourn.

And I swear I see her, now and again,

Cast in the shadow of a lost soul,

She never seems to know who I am,

And I feel I'm left out in the cold.



Then I'm back in a moment from the present,

A sudden quiver of deja vu,

It seems I'm going through it all again,

Enveloped in a whisper of truth,

But how can this be, it seems so real,

Flesh, blood, bone..... Alive!

I can taste, I can smell, I can touch, I can feel!

I cannot be the one who died!



She does remember me,

The way that we used to be,

I did see her standing

Alone in the cemetery,

It was really her,

But she was not the ghost,

And now I know for sure

She lays flowers to commemorate her loss.



borloff & angie