im not one for looking back
ive lost too much to start caring now
but this one
yea this one
my praise to the one that got away
the softest lips
breaking the hardest of hearts
and this world had no time set aside for us
sometimes life has a way of taking over
so they say
and i dont regret a thing
i just want you to know
its a fond memory of mine
and i cant ever forget you
im not one for staring
ive hurt too much to pine over things
but this one
yea this one
my ode to the one that got away
i see you in pictures
colorful and full of life
and it still makes me smile
the memory of the way we used to look at each other
still makes my heart start to race
still makes my stomach flutter
youre a warm blanket of a memory
youre the ember i hold inside
to light the greatest of fires when i need it
and if things had been different
i might not feel this way at all
so i hold this special little fantasy
all to myself
and take comfort in the fact
that for one short time, the world was ours
im not one for looking back
ive seen too much to start questioning it all
but this one
yea this one
...yea
this one.
the feel of the stage is amazing. its like being put up on some sort of pedestal for something you dont deserve, but youre not gonna be the one to tell the powers that be of their mistake.
a week before the show is all tension. you try not to think about it cause every time you do the knots build in your stomach and you feel a little queesy. you're nerves are fried by the day of the show because you spent all week prep-ing for it.
you get into this mode, its almost too terrifying to describe. thats because the stage has become the one place you allow yourself to let go. Its the one place you are allowed to be an asshole, that you are allowed to yell at the top of your lungs, that you are allowed to flail all your limbs and have a temper tantrum. Its emotional, its grueling, and it hurts all in that self destructive release kind of way. Some people cut themselves, we go on stage.
usually you show up to the venue and as soon as you see the building you go deep inside yourself. if anyone even tried to fuck with you right now you would punch their lights out. you load all the gear in the back, past venue security guys who dont even want to be there, and look at you like you're the biggest asshole they have ever seen. they are unfriendly, and usually big so they look threatening, but people who look threatening piss us off, so we just glare right back at them. they are at work, we are at play.
you backline all your gear, maybe you'll get a sound check, maybe you wont. it doesnt really matter. you just want to get on with it, the beast is rattling the cage. usually you get stupid questions from asinine sound guys who dont really know what they are doing, but think they do. they tell you to turn down, your amps are too loud. they dont understand that its part of the band. you go back to your amps and put your fingers on the volume knob to make it look like you are doing something to address the problem, but you dont twist that knob a fucking millimeter. this is when the inexperience and idiocy of the sound guy comes out when he says, "yea that'll work".
sometimes some of the other guys stuff isnt working right, so you have to go over and trouble shoot their stuff cause when youre on stage your mind is a mess. some people deal with it well, and it sharpens their mind, for others its complete confusion in a manic sort of way, and they cant even figure out what to look at to address the gear issues. it gets fixed somehow.
now comes the waiting period. you feel like you wanna kill someone, your heart is racing so bad. your blood is boiling, and all the while people are piling in. some know you, some dont, those that do want to say hi and talk to you, but you have trouble concentrating on what they are saying because all you can hear is your heart beat and your blood coursing in your ears. you go into the back where people who arent in a band are not allowed because all the gear is back their and the venues dont want a lawsuit. you go back there and sit with the gear in the darkness to be alone.
alone is where this was born. alone is where you found it. alone is where you were when everything was at bottom and all you could think of doing was writing it down, or playing guitar to it, mocking your misery and saying to it "fuck you. i may have to live in this hole, but it wont stop me from decorating the walls just to spite you." you dont want to talk to anyone, you dont even want to watch the rest of the bands on the bill, but its a respectful thing to do, so you try. sometimes they are good, most times they are bad.
you look at drummers who are wearing faces that tell you they cant hear anything in their monitors. you look at guitar players who cant get close enough to the edge of the front of the stage, looking like someone actually gives a shit how they can jerk off their instrument. guitar players are boring.
you look at bass players who are in the background, but you can see in their eyes that they are the most unstable out of all of them, and they probably write everything. you see singers jumping around like a sponge soaking up all the attention they can get, but they have to be the face of the band, so they have to balancing looking like an asshole and giving what the crowd payed to see.
fellow musicians will see you back stage and they will say hello, and usually its nice to see them. they get it, they know how it is. they feel like crap too, so they say their piece, greet you and move on. they hate waiting just as much as you do. you find free cases of water, and you take one, after the show you'll be back to take at least 4 at a time, but before you play you dont go overboard. it could cause you to cramp up, or weigh you down. you could have to piss, and you cant take a break on stage.
a band plays that you actually are into and they play a really good set. you spend their set kicking yourself because you wish you could have seen them after you played or at a show where you werent playing at all because you cant concentrate enough to enjoy it. all thoughts and feelings are swallowed by "the mode".
you see people in the crowd looking at you, faces you dont recognize. looking at you and wondering if youre something special or just another one of these hack musician assholes. they want to be entertained. you either give it all you got, or you walk home.
the air is thick with anticipation. your other band members are out in that crowd somewhere, but you havent even really talked to one of them since you got to the venue. now is not the time for talking, you go your separate ways because you are all getting into "the mode" and the mode is not friendly. it doesnt care how many years you've known each other. the mode is on fire, and it will only burn people who come too close. its a vicious burn too, you could apologize for what you said or did afterwards and they might forgive you but they will never forget it. the mode pulls no punches, and lands kill shots.
the last song of the band before you ends. they thank the crowd and start packing their shit. thats when the gloves come off. at this point you are red hot, and are capable of only a few functions. you wheel your cabinets on stage, over chords, trying not to hit anyones ankles and getting in everyones way while they are trying to get their shit off the stage so they can be out of your way. some people play with half stacks, you play with full stacks. you wheel the other cabinet on stage, the wheels are better on this cabinet. you wrap your arms around it and lift it on top of the other cabinet. you shove it to test it, it'll stay standing. you bring your amps on stage. first you have to find power, but thats always a chore because theirs never enough power. you hook your speaker cables into your amps, and you power them on to warm up the tubes while you get the rest of your gear ready. you see the tubes glow bright orange, it doesnt always mean that your amp is working though. there is always that fear that the amp wont work, and that is the worst feeling in the history of music.
at this point you are already in "kill mode" and now your amp doesnt want to work. you arent in a troubleshooting mind state and everything else is an irritation to kill mode, so all you want to do is lift the goddamn amp over your head and throw the goddamn thing to the floor. 'thats what you get for failing me at my most desperate hour you piece of shit.'
this time the amp works on the first try. you set up your pedal board, and plug it directly into your amps. you pull your guitar out of its case. this is your weapon, your instrument, your channel for directing all the negative bullshit in your life into something where it wont hurt anyone, guitars can tame bombs.
you plug the guitar in, but first you loop in through your strap so as not to step on it mid song and pull the cable out. you take extra precautions to let the mode flow at will and rage wherever it wants. anything that gets in its way will be destroyed, and then its your ass later on because you are the one who has to answer for what the mode has done.
you turn the volume up on your guitar and give the strings a "whack". you check both amps, sound is coming from both. you breathe a little easier now knowing that everything is in place for the big let go. when things dont go smoothly it attacks you. it picks at your nerves and confuses your mind. its so overwhelming that you lash out at anyone or anything just to get it to shut up.
you click on your tuner and tune your guitar. you get it in, and then you play a little with the volume down to warm up the strings and warm up your hands. if its cold outside, your hands are numb at this point so you have to make sure that you can play the thing without being able to feel it, you realize you can.
you click on the tuner again and tune again. its not even out of tune, but the anxiety is forcing you to do something. you look at the rest of your band members, your friends who you trust with your darkest side. you look them in the eyes, and you can see that same fire in all of them. you nod to them to let them know you are ready, and a link is formed. you can almost hear their thoughts. you can feel their hearts beating in time with yours. this is a well oiled machine. this is a powerful force ready to take on anything that stands up to it.
the first song starts with a bang as all instruments kick in at the exact same time. it feels like air rushing into a vaccum, its almost a smack in the face, then its all blind rage. you dont even realize what you are doing. the mind takes over, and the arms play what they are supposed to while the body cleanses itself of all the negativity, of all the unfair bullshit its forced to deal with everyday. if it doesnt hurt, you are not doing it right.
you feel a rumble in your throat and you realize you are screaming at the top of your lungs. you do not remember starting this, but it feels good. you feel cramps in your arms, muscles pulling too far in your neck, legs and back. the room spins, balance gives out, it doesnt matter. this is the place where that is allowed. this is the only place you have to put the scars of the past. the only place to unlatch the chains and let the burdens off your back. this is where you have an arguement with god about how fucked up everything is. this is where you point the blame and it actually sinks home. this is where you feel someone finally get what they deserve.
you feel the stage hard underneath your feet, and you kick at it, you stomp on it, you desecrate this pedestal they placed you on, because none of them even realize what it took to be there at all. you want to hurt, you want to sweat, you want your lungs to burn and taste the blood when you inhale. you want to prove it to them that you will go farther than anyone. you will destroy everything if you have to just to prove the point that you exist because you choose too, and they have no say in it. your band exists because its chooses to, and they have no say in it, and when they are gone you will still be here kicking at the stage, and popping the bones in your back.
you work until you cant move. you fall on your knees a few times, but you get back up. you have to squeeze out every last drop, even if it kills you, and some part of you hopes it really does. your muscles give up and beg for rest, your throat is on fire. your head is pounding and all hope is abandoned.
the show is over, you crawl to your amps to flip the switches off. you start unplugging everything with a head so full of numb it gets hard to remember what to do and where all this shit goes. you wrap your cables, you put tops on cases, you put your guitar in a case, you put your chords away. everything gets wheeled off the stage like it never even happened, and then you sit still for 10 to 15 minutes of peace. this is the only time you get to actually feel what it feels like when its actually all gone, because after those 10 or 15 minutes are up it all starts piling back on, but for 10 to 15 minutes, you know true peace, you know true freedom, and that little ember is enough to get you through another year in this shit hole.
people tell you they enjoyed it. youre glad for them, but you are too worn out to care. they understand. they want to come up and talk to you afterward, but you are an intense sight to behold now and you look like youre on fire. they come up to you cautiously with their guard up. the look in your eyes scares them. they part way as you move through the crowd. youre drenched in sweat, they will move. all you want now is cold water, and a soft place to lay down. the water is there, but sometimes its not cold, and the soft place to lay down is hard to find, but even a wood floor feels softer than standing at this point.
this is what happens everyday. this is the cycle you go through everyday. you wrap up any cuts, address any bruises, try to stretch out any kinks in your muscles, but they wont be coming out for days. you learn to ignore the pain. theres no time for it, its that simple. we have better shit to do.
the next day youre just a regular person again. you go about your day like anyone else, and no one has any idea of what you just did the night before. you come unglued every night, and then when its over you have to put the beast back into the cage and pretend that it never actually happened except in your memories.
then maybe you'll stop being manipulative
then maybe you put your guard down
and tell me you love me without crossing your finger behind your back
im sorry i dont live up to your expectations
but i cant live in your lie
its hard to breathe in your world
and you smother the very air you exist in
i see you've picked a husband with so little thought its a wonder he even functions
hes a clean slate for you to program to your whim
as long as he keeps the money coming in
so you can keep the heat on full blast in your house
that house reminds me of hell
but of course youre cold all the time, it goes with your black heart
the souless dont have very good circulation
warmth is reserved for the good people in life
but you...you'll do whatever you have to in the interest of your needs
even step on the people closest to you
whatsamatter, mommy and daddy didnt love you enough
too many kids running around, they didnt show you enough attention
too many belts to the back of your ass
im sorry that happened to you, but that has nothing to do with me
i was never asked to be born, and truth be told if it were my choice
i would have chosen someone else
cause the shit you did to me when i was a kid are the biggest scars i have
of all the times i have self mutilated
of all the times i tried to cut out the pain
your scars are the biggest ones i have
i am a product of your inability to overcome your own bullshit
theres a word for that you know
its called irresponsible
it was irresponsible for you to have children
look at us now
an angry self loathing bastard, and a closet case alcoholic, bi-polar wreck
two kids who have no idea how to function like the people around us
because we have never know "normal" ever in our lives
so ya know what, thank you for that
some people would say that i shouldnt say these things
this a terrible thing to lay on your mother
well if they knew the shit that you layed on me my whole life
they would stone you to death
you are no mother of mine
youre just a word to me, just a person that has come and gone
every gift you ever gave me was a manipulation to use against me later on
when things got to hot and i started to figure out your bullshit
and thats what you really have against me
its that i got you all figured out
you cant pull the wool over my eyes
i see right through you
and you are a terrified little girl trying to hurt the world that hurt her
well fuck you for that, grow a pair why dontcha
the world doesnt owe you a goddamn thing
and neither do i for that matter
your a selfish little child
i am truly ashamed of you
im ashamed of your family that came before you
and im cutting that out of me, like a cancerous limb
you cannot hurt me anymore
you have no power over me anymore
i dont want to be around you
you are not a good person to be around
you play games with peoples lives
there would be a cold place in hell for you, if hell even existed
thats another lie you fed me, while were at it
every slap on my face you dealt is another year i stay away from you
every closed fist punch you hit me with, every bruised rib
is another reassurance that i dont need you ever again
and i have thousands to choose from
if it were fuel, i could power a goddamn train around the world
you abusive, manipulative bitch
always the victim, always the one crying
while im the one dressing wounds, and hiding bruises
but hey "your house, your rules" thats a pretty good way to make a kid feel trapped
what the fuck was i supposed to do with that
i didnt have a choice then
but i do now
and you are as dead as dead can be to me
i piss on your goddamn corpse, and i desecrate your goddamn grave
you wont even be a memory to me
i am over you
i am over this
i wash my hands of this with the rest of the dirt on them
cause thats all you are anyway
no one really cares who dies
they just go home and stew in their jealousy
wishing it was their obituary that everyone was reading
its the only real way out
the only way to finally let it all go
we live in the fog
we breath smoke until our lungs give up trying to reject it
no one really cares who dies
its a television series
its not even real
its a headline
you forget it with the turn of a page
we burn our bed sores closed
we tie our belts tighter to stop the hunger pains
and we rub spit into our eyes to keep them from drying out
the body gives up
and who really gives a shit
you get tired of delaying the inevitable
no matter what, it comes to an end
dont be an asshole and try to make it all worth it
youre just giving them something to laugh about
fuckin whatever
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