I can't describe to you...
An energetic state.
The intensity of feelings in perfect counterpart.
Poised to destroy and to love, but which do nothing at all.
Preferring to roll around in silent knowing.
As deadly as pleasant.
As futile as knowledge.
As useless as the individual that has it.
But really just the start.
For no-one here will ever feel this.
No one will ever know it. Get it. Be like it.
Which would make me rage, if I gave a damn.
But my body is no longer.
My mind is no longer.
What's mine is nothing.
Bliss. Pure. Uneven. Powerful. Bliss.
Some lyrics don't fit into songs - they seem to stand out all on their own... this didn't fit anywhere at all, so...here:
Many people know my song, Wash It Away, but few know it originated as a poem about my own death.
I wrote this in one go - this is the original unedited version which was adapted and changed for the song...
I have started more fires than I can count, and I still burn my fingers every time. I love to put my hands in, and sometimes I rush things... I stand behind this poem entirely, we must learn things first hand.