"Mon cher Lemonkid, c'est ton tour
De te laisser parler d'amour.'
A year ago I was drinking expensive scotch, supping on steak and believing I had it all under control, but in reality was a conductor snoozing in a gone dead train. I'm a year older now - and dare I say - wiser.
But the old fires are back. This is my year, I can feel it and it will be a year of goals grabbed with sweat and mettle - but in the soft casual style of an old Fred Astaire tune.
Now the Quebecois birthday song leans heavily towards the fortunes of romance - but those three old spinning sisters weave love in the most particular of patterns. If it's in the cards I'll find a worthy opponent - silver tongues duelling like flashing rapiers in a moonlit tango and they'll eat my brain and my heart like a ripe cannibal. Otherwise I'll simply tilt windmills with Nietzsche and thunder through each day like human dynamite.
This will be a year of goals marked off the list, assembled like bowling pins like will o' wisps and blown apart in a strike with a blast of true will. Or .. at least a spare.
Most people live without passion, but mine is back and I feel the need to lead others to there's like a reprobate Pied Piper of Hamelin. So let's go.
The child in me plays -
play tin whistle loud and strong
play tin whistle all day long
under the sun
and under the moon
play the old tin whistle tune
and
the devil in me plays
Help me in my search for knowledge,
I must learn the Secret Art.
Who dares to help me raise the on
Whose very name near stills my heart?
ASTAROTH
Discard your clothes and come on foot,
Through streams and fields and moonlit moors,
Your bodies soaked in secret oils,
Perfumed herbs will heal your sores.
Join me in my search for power.
Wives and husbands bring your kin.
We'll be as one within the hour.
Let the Sabbat now begin!
I feel the onset of good things.
De te laisser parler d'amour.'
A year ago I was drinking expensive scotch, supping on steak and believing I had it all under control, but in reality was a conductor snoozing in a gone dead train. I'm a year older now - and dare I say - wiser.
But the old fires are back. This is my year, I can feel it and it will be a year of goals grabbed with sweat and mettle - but in the soft casual style of an old Fred Astaire tune.
Now the Quebecois birthday song leans heavily towards the fortunes of romance - but those three old spinning sisters weave love in the most particular of patterns. If it's in the cards I'll find a worthy opponent - silver tongues duelling like flashing rapiers in a moonlit tango and they'll eat my brain and my heart like a ripe cannibal. Otherwise I'll simply tilt windmills with Nietzsche and thunder through each day like human dynamite.
This will be a year of goals marked off the list, assembled like bowling pins like will o' wisps and blown apart in a strike with a blast of true will. Or .. at least a spare.
Most people live without passion, but mine is back and I feel the need to lead others to there's like a reprobate Pied Piper of Hamelin. So let's go.
The child in me plays -
play tin whistle loud and strong
play tin whistle all day long
under the sun
and under the moon
play the old tin whistle tune
and
the devil in me plays
Help me in my search for knowledge,
I must learn the Secret Art.
Who dares to help me raise the on
Whose very name near stills my heart?
ASTAROTH
Discard your clothes and come on foot,
Through streams and fields and moonlit moors,
Your bodies soaked in secret oils,
Perfumed herbs will heal your sores.
Join me in my search for power.
Wives and husbands bring your kin.
We'll be as one within the hour.
Let the Sabbat now begin!
I feel the onset of good things.
VIEW 19 of 19 COMMENTS
adjunct:
It's not actually a music community- it's just an old message board that is an extension of an old newsgroup I used to post on, but once in a while somebody will start a YSI/Sendspace thread and post stuff (which is usually mostly terrible, except this one).
severus:
I hope I get a buddhist for my birthday.