so i had 12 tickets to see sigur ros in austin....but now they have all been claimed...amazing...i shouldn't have returned the other four just in case, but what are you going to do? sit back and enjoy the ride....
i only despise in others what i despise in myself and strive to keep hidden. the mirror they provide doesn't proclaim the fairest of them all, but rather the sickest place in my heart...bleeding disease across the fallen walls of discipline and prayer...but perhaps the walls were never meant to hold so that in the final hour the truth may be revealed that nothing i build or have will be put in a suitcase for that last escalator ride in the clouds...that everything is a gift, whether it stings or soothes...the soap in my eyes has numbed the nerves i need to see...but i was just trying to make sure i saw clearly...the path is hard to see sometimes...the noise revolving 'round my head makes me swim in melodies and minor chords of crooning dissonance...wind whipped and dishelved along the jet streams of a well worn inner path in my mind to security and shanties...they pale behind the brilliance of glowing windows and gleaming pillars and shining voices crying in unison words so sweet they have no meaning beyond the tears they pull...rising beyond the constricted throat and past the rubbing knuckles of embarrassment..pride has built a wall in my heart to hide the hole it bore in my soul...while i danced with a fiddle along burning rooftops proclaiming to the stars my feats and conquests...but the timbers gave way and shattered i lay...with the rubble and debris indistinguishable...eyes open and broken teeth writhing...wishing....whispering...whimpering...without...
i only despise in others what i despise in myself and strive to keep hidden. the mirror they provide doesn't proclaim the fairest of them all, but rather the sickest place in my heart...bleeding disease across the fallen walls of discipline and prayer...but perhaps the walls were never meant to hold so that in the final hour the truth may be revealed that nothing i build or have will be put in a suitcase for that last escalator ride in the clouds...that everything is a gift, whether it stings or soothes...the soap in my eyes has numbed the nerves i need to see...but i was just trying to make sure i saw clearly...the path is hard to see sometimes...the noise revolving 'round my head makes me swim in melodies and minor chords of crooning dissonance...wind whipped and dishelved along the jet streams of a well worn inner path in my mind to security and shanties...they pale behind the brilliance of glowing windows and gleaming pillars and shining voices crying in unison words so sweet they have no meaning beyond the tears they pull...rising beyond the constricted throat and past the rubbing knuckles of embarrassment..pride has built a wall in my heart to hide the hole it bore in my soul...while i danced with a fiddle along burning rooftops proclaiming to the stars my feats and conquests...but the timbers gave way and shattered i lay...with the rubble and debris indistinguishable...eyes open and broken teeth writhing...wishing....whispering...whimpering...without...
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