18
18 feels...
Like stepping stones, borders and decisions.
Put away childish things.
Alcohol, voting.
Responsibility, choking.
We live in a world...
Where nothing is shocking.
Not injustice or gore.
They want to see more.
The future is...
Seen through a colour filter.
Joy, success.
Heading towards some happiness.
We cannot predict...
What will become of tomorrow.
The cards, the dice.
Promising paradise.
We are victims of...
Our own successes.
Applause, adulations.
Fulfil their expectations.
And first love...
Like a punch to the heart.
Something lost, something found.
See you around.
But the music though...
Is ours to perfect.
Dance Dance, drum and sing.
The voice, the lyric, everything.
Childhood...
Potential we should store in a flask.
Wasted energy, shyness device.
Why isn't everybody nice?
What is left to be dreamed...
A house, gothic, warm with cats.
Money earned and stored.
Effort, reward.
And what of the soul...
Souls tell stories.
Pointy shoes and thieving magpies.
Darkness, lies.
The last word...
The world wants to be filmed.
Make your own movie.
I will film you, filming me.
Create, be.
- Ruth Maher
I have recorded it to see if I could get it within the three minute mark. I have managed to get it to 1:53 which is about perfect as I will add credits at the end. I have managed to find someone at CCAD who would do the verses and I am waiting for him to quickly send me one of the verses to see what he sounds like.
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