I’ll never let you go, if you promise not to fade away.
Matthew Bellamy, Starlight
I remember the look in your eyes when I told you that this was goodbye.
You were begging me, “Not tonight, not here, not now.”
We’re looking up at the same night sky and we keep pretending the sun will not rise.
We’ll be together for one more night. Somewhere, somehow.
Ryan Key, Ocean Avenue
I’m in the sky tonight
There I can keep by your side
Watching the wide world riot and hiding out
I’ll be coming home next year
Come on, get on, get on
Take it til life runs out
No one can find us now
Living with our heads underground
Dave Grohl, Next Year
I can tell just what you want. You don’t want to be alone.
And I can’t say it’s what you know but, you’ve known it the whole time.
Alex Trimble, What You Know
I rambled with the worst of them
Fell in love with a harlequin
Saw the darkest hearts of men
And I saw myself staring back again
The Silent Comedy, Bartholomew
We’ll end up numb from playing video games and we’ll get sick of having sex.
And we’ll get fat from eating candy as we drink ourselves to death.
We’ll stay up late making mixtapes; Photoshopping pictures of ourselves.
While we masturbate to these pixelated videos of strangers fucking themselves.
We are very busy people.
Eric Victorino, Very Busy People
I know a lady
Good & Evil
Showed me that I was a gentleman
Wait for the girl to blossom into
Colors that grow where you can
Joe Hawley, A Lady
I’ll wear my badge
A vinyl sticker with big block letters
Adhere it to my chest
That tells your new friends
I am a visitor here: I am not permanent
And the only thing keeping me dry is where I am
Ben Gibbard, The District Sleeps Alone Tonight
A memory guilded in red and gold
Beauty guarded and never sold
I keep it with me wherever I go
And I love you still
No matter how a story will unfold
You know I always will
Have part of you here
In this souvenir
This sweet spanish doll
Anne Danielewski, Spanish Doll
Of course I constantly despair at my own incapacity, at the impossibility of ever accomplishing anything, of painting a valid, true picture or even knowing what such a thing ought to look like. But then I always have the hope that, if I persevere, it might one day happen. And this hope is nurtured every time something appears, a scattered, partial, initial hint of something which reminds me of what I long for, or which conveys a hint of it – although often enough I have been fooled by a momentary glimpse that then vanishes, leaving behind only the usual thing.