Song Time Part 2
Here's a little something that I wrote for a Behind The Music style novella about a fictionalized rock star's life and tragic fate.
This particular song was written for a character named Mary Collins- who was meant to be a sort of Sylvia Plath re-imagined as a goth music singer.
If the lyrics don't make it clear enough, she also comes to an unhappy end.
However, there is a little Easter Egg in my first book Misfit Toys In Love that references this song.
“VOID”
The stench of death is a sweet perfume
Compared to a heart rotting away
And the blackest night a candle lit
Bright as day in the endless pit of my soul
Life’s an abyss that swallows the light
And laughter and bliss are lies of the fall
The Giant’s shadow freezes all beneath it
Snow drifts engulf the trees and the fields
But the lives that move not are reborn each year
While those in motion continue falling like tears
The velvet night sky, all in all
Is no more or less than my velvet death shawl
The stars are the stains that can never come clean
Purity is the dye that paints envy green
The moon is my tombstone, its crevices crackling
The face on it smiling, taunting and cackling
Pain is patient, death is coy
Sorrow’s a sadist, and love
Love is a void
This particular song was written for a character named Mary Collins- who was meant to be a sort of Sylvia Plath re-imagined as a goth music singer.
If the lyrics don't make it clear enough, she also comes to an unhappy end.
However, there is a little Easter Egg in my first book Misfit Toys In Love that references this song.
“VOID”
The stench of death is a sweet perfume
Compared to a heart rotting away
And the blackest night a candle lit
Bright as day in the endless pit of my soul
Life’s an abyss that swallows the light
And laughter and bliss are lies of the fall
The Giant’s shadow freezes all beneath it
Snow drifts engulf the trees and the fields
But the lives that move not are reborn each year
While those in motion continue falling like tears
The velvet night sky, all in all
Is no more or less than my velvet death shawl
The stars are the stains that can never come clean
Purity is the dye that paints envy green
The moon is my tombstone, its crevices crackling
The face on it smiling, taunting and cackling
Pain is patient, death is coy
Sorrow’s a sadist, and love
Love is a void
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