a moment caught in time
Could I have been
A parking lot attendant
Could I have been
A millionaire in Bel Air
...a young woman sits in a coffee shop on a crowded city street, intent on the play she is reading. Her long, caramel-brown hair is up in a messy bun on the back of her head, her ears covered instead by a pair of headphones. With a sigh, she closes the book and stands, stretching long legs that had begun to cramp. Her mind is filled with images of the play she just finished. A chance phrase on the radio catches her ears, and her mind soars out the window, far above the dirty city streets...
Could I have been
Lost Somewhere in Paris
Could I have been
Your little brother
....across town, a young man is asleep in his bed, exhausted and sick. Working nights when you're ill doesn't do much for your health. He'll have to miss training again tonight, or risk making the other students sick and worsening his own condition. He stirs slightly in his sleep, the muscles in his arms tensing in some unseen struggle. With a sigh, he turns beneath the sheets, and is still again. In a few hours he'll awaken, with little or no recollection of his journey through dreams...
Could I have been
Anyone other than me
Could I have been
Anyone other than me
...Two girls are nestled comfortably on a worn green couch in the campus coffee shop. The shorter one is bent over a sketchbook, her pencil flying skillfully over the paper, short black hair pinned back from a pale face. When this picture is done, she'll return to her schoolwork, but this image is too vivid in her mind's eye to let it rest. The other girl sits cross-legged on the couch, a textbook cradled in her lap. The fingers of one hand unconsciously trace a scar on her cheek, the only blemish in an otherwise attractive face. Absently she leans forward and reaches slowly down to the table in front of her, her fingers curling around the handle of the coffee mug resting there. Both girls are lost in their work, oblivious to the bone-chilling weather outside...
He stands touch his hair his shoes untied
Tongue gaping stare
Could I have been a magnet for money?
Could have been anyone other than me?
...intelligent, thoughtful eyes stare intently at the words appearing on the computer screen in front of them. One hand pauses momentarily in its busy typing to push glasses back up a nose, hardly noticing the interruption. So many thoughts, so many images, a multitude of souls each with their own story to be told, all clamoring for attention inside her head. "Listen to me," they whisper urgently, tugging ceaselessly at her consciousness. She sighs, smiling. A writer's work is never done...
Twenty three and so tired of life
Such a shame to throw it all away
The images grow darker still
Could I have been anyone other than me?
...two brown eyes blink behind a pair of glasses, peering out of a pretty freckled face that until a moment ago was lost in pleasant un-reality. She comes back to class reluctantly from the daydream of the young man who is never far from her thoughts, though he is several hours away. A smile graces her face at the happy thought that soon, soon, he'll hold her in his warm arms again...
Then I look up at the sky
My mouth is open wide lick and taste
What's the use in worrying, what's the use in hurrying
Turn turn we almost become dizzy
...though she has been back in the country of her birth for over half a year now, occasionally the girl will still dream in the language of that faraway island nation. She does so now, her dreaming mind flying back to that place, so familiar and yet so painfully far away. A smiling face, a kind word, the faint fragrance of cherry blossoms, a sound that lingers barely on the edge of remembrance like the soft word that wakes you from a dream, and that familiar ache in the middle of your chest that never really goes away---a part of her lives still in that faraway country, and always will....
I am who I am who I am well who am I
Requesting some enlightenment
Could I have been anyone other than me...
...despite the freezing weather outside, the young man is wearing nothing but a t-shirt and jeans in his overly-warm dorm room. Taking a momentary break from studying---abnormal psychology can only be stomached for so long---he turns on some music and picks up the book he's been reading. Only half his mind is focused on the pages before his eyes; part of him is always with a certain bespectacled young woman with brown hair and a cheerful smile. Her picture rests on his desk, never far from his sight or from his mind...
And then I'll
Sing and dance
I'll play for you tonight
The thrill of it all
Dark clouds may hang on me sometimes
But I'll work it out
*lyrics=dave matthews, everything else is mine. you are all my friends, I love you dearly and you are never far from my thoughts. don't ever forget that....*
A parking lot attendant
Could I have been
A millionaire in Bel Air
...a young woman sits in a coffee shop on a crowded city street, intent on the play she is reading. Her long, caramel-brown hair is up in a messy bun on the back of her head, her ears covered instead by a pair of headphones. With a sigh, she closes the book and stands, stretching long legs that had begun to cramp. Her mind is filled with images of the play she just finished. A chance phrase on the radio catches her ears, and her mind soars out the window, far above the dirty city streets...
Could I have been
Lost Somewhere in Paris
Could I have been
Your little brother
....across town, a young man is asleep in his bed, exhausted and sick. Working nights when you're ill doesn't do much for your health. He'll have to miss training again tonight, or risk making the other students sick and worsening his own condition. He stirs slightly in his sleep, the muscles in his arms tensing in some unseen struggle. With a sigh, he turns beneath the sheets, and is still again. In a few hours he'll awaken, with little or no recollection of his journey through dreams...
Could I have been
Anyone other than me
Could I have been
Anyone other than me
...Two girls are nestled comfortably on a worn green couch in the campus coffee shop. The shorter one is bent over a sketchbook, her pencil flying skillfully over the paper, short black hair pinned back from a pale face. When this picture is done, she'll return to her schoolwork, but this image is too vivid in her mind's eye to let it rest. The other girl sits cross-legged on the couch, a textbook cradled in her lap. The fingers of one hand unconsciously trace a scar on her cheek, the only blemish in an otherwise attractive face. Absently she leans forward and reaches slowly down to the table in front of her, her fingers curling around the handle of the coffee mug resting there. Both girls are lost in their work, oblivious to the bone-chilling weather outside...
He stands touch his hair his shoes untied
Tongue gaping stare
Could I have been a magnet for money?
Could have been anyone other than me?
...intelligent, thoughtful eyes stare intently at the words appearing on the computer screen in front of them. One hand pauses momentarily in its busy typing to push glasses back up a nose, hardly noticing the interruption. So many thoughts, so many images, a multitude of souls each with their own story to be told, all clamoring for attention inside her head. "Listen to me," they whisper urgently, tugging ceaselessly at her consciousness. She sighs, smiling. A writer's work is never done...
Twenty three and so tired of life
Such a shame to throw it all away
The images grow darker still
Could I have been anyone other than me?
...two brown eyes blink behind a pair of glasses, peering out of a pretty freckled face that until a moment ago was lost in pleasant un-reality. She comes back to class reluctantly from the daydream of the young man who is never far from her thoughts, though he is several hours away. A smile graces her face at the happy thought that soon, soon, he'll hold her in his warm arms again...
Then I look up at the sky
My mouth is open wide lick and taste
What's the use in worrying, what's the use in hurrying
Turn turn we almost become dizzy
...though she has been back in the country of her birth for over half a year now, occasionally the girl will still dream in the language of that faraway island nation. She does so now, her dreaming mind flying back to that place, so familiar and yet so painfully far away. A smiling face, a kind word, the faint fragrance of cherry blossoms, a sound that lingers barely on the edge of remembrance like the soft word that wakes you from a dream, and that familiar ache in the middle of your chest that never really goes away---a part of her lives still in that faraway country, and always will....
I am who I am who I am well who am I
Requesting some enlightenment
Could I have been anyone other than me...
...despite the freezing weather outside, the young man is wearing nothing but a t-shirt and jeans in his overly-warm dorm room. Taking a momentary break from studying---abnormal psychology can only be stomached for so long---he turns on some music and picks up the book he's been reading. Only half his mind is focused on the pages before his eyes; part of him is always with a certain bespectacled young woman with brown hair and a cheerful smile. Her picture rests on his desk, never far from his sight or from his mind...
And then I'll
Sing and dance
I'll play for you tonight
The thrill of it all
Dark clouds may hang on me sometimes
But I'll work it out
*lyrics=dave matthews, everything else is mine. you are all my friends, I love you dearly and you are never far from my thoughts. don't ever forget that....*