WellThen

Hello fellow Bandampers! I have to say this in someplace where people will understand (sadly, not all that many of my friends are musical/creative), my writer's block is gone! I have had awful writer's block for, I'd say about a month and a half to two months. Then my insomnia kicked back in. So, I can write again! Which is infinitely pleasing, especially since I got a couple of different things down on paper (one spoken word thing that I'm rather pleased with, actually). But yes, this would be the only reason why I'm happy to get insomnia from time to time. It helps me write. Anyways, enough of my ramblings, farewell all!

Wellthen

Hello all.

I've recently been thinking, why do so many of us feel this connection to music? I write and play because I adore it. Because it's my passion. But why? Is there some underlying reason for all of us? Are we comforted by the bubble of our own world we can create with these sounds? Hmm, I'm simply running in circles with these questions, aren't I? Oh, and there's another one. Well, I suppose this will give anybody who takes the time to read it a little bit to think about. Thanks for listening,

Sam

Hello all. This would be a little spoken-word thing I've written recently. I have a nice little simple chord thing for the music too, but not sure if I like it for accompaniment. (By the way, if anyone thinks up a better ending to the last two lines of the second verse, feel free to suggest it)

I've been thinking of reality.
Of life and thoughts and dreams,
And these words I pen out
And what I hope they mean.
But just because I write them,
Will they hear it?
Just because I build it,
Will they come?
Or is this just my hopeless dream?
Some form of spoken eloquency used
To portray the latest thoughts in my mind.

With all great fervor I persue,
That hidden melody in my mind.
The perfect note, perfect tune,
To match the syllables sung in rhyme.
And all I can do is hope,
That these words I pen have meaning.
Are not lost to the world,
And can bring some sense of feeling,
To the numbness so many know.

So I take this pen and paper,
Lose some sleep, gain some addiction,
In some hope that my world can be heard
Through this fickle medium called Art.
That someone out there can hear what I say,
(Whether joyful or despairing)
And take a little message, whatever it be,
To live better.
And maybe, because of a little vanity,
I could think they live better because of me.

Hey guys, this is a little hang-over song I had fun with. I don't have much for the music yet, but here's to hoping it all works out. Let me know what you think!
Riverside

I woke up with an' achin' head,
And wondered why my hand was wet.
Why the hell wasn't I in my bed?
And why'd I crash by the river instead?

(chorus)
I woke up by the riverside,
And thought: "That was one hell of a ride."
Well maybe it'd be better,
If I could just remember what I'd done.

A little kid came up to me and said:
"Hey mister, isn't there someplace you should be?"
Well I just shrugged and said don't know,
An' just kept stumping down that empty road.

(chorus)
I woke up by the riverside,
And thought: "That was one hell of a ride."
Well maybe it'd be better,
If I could just remember what I'd done.

Last thing I remember was that poker night.
I lost a few hands and stumbled out in the night,
Then I found a bar and the rest is all black...
So... (Stop music, then start up again at the next verse)
 
The next poker night I'll do just the same,
I've got an' achin' head,
But it was worth all the pain!
I'll have a few drinks, I'll lose a few hands,
An' go stumbling out into the night once again.

(chorus)
I woke up by the riverside,
And thought: "That was one hell of a ride."
Well maybe it'd be better,
If I could just remember what I'd done.