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The Cooper.It was still dark there. Where thought meets feeling.
A grey, cold dampness like my cellar where fine wines were once kept, but now only feint wafts of once rich fermentation and oak reveals it had stored such treasure.
Thin silken cobwebs are draped over the barrels, cracked and empty. As though protecting them, waiting silently to capture anyone who dare see the stains within.
He glances at me. That defiant piercing stare of a burglar, uninvited entry into my soul.I avert my gaze, flustered.
He gently sweeps the gossamer net aside, exposing the the vessels barren and vulnerable, where only a year ago they were pregnant, a daring Merlot awaiting it's first breath of air.
'No!' my voice trembles, I step between him and the cask. 'Not yet.'
I retreat into the dark corner where it's stacked and the cold rivets press into the small of my back, crushing into my spine. Later I'll press my fingers into the round bruises shaded Medoc Noir.
He touches my fingers, pulls my hand and steadies my
Who Stole The SongRemember when there was something to fight for
When a voice wasn't just sound
When it meant something.Anything
Remember when we had something to die for
and the cries in your chest couldn't be contained
and you poured out your soul like torrential rain
Hey, When did it dry up?
When did we stop looking to the sky?
Waiting on a cloudburst to break up
That would make the heavens cry
No one knew, what they knew all along
Who would remember who,
Who stole the song?
Remember when there was something to kill for
When life wasn't just living
Remember when we felt some kind of thrill for
A rush in your chest you couldn't contain
Now theres' nothing but numb where there should've been pain
How, when did it dry out?
When did the sound stop falling from the sky?
Nobody said, but they knew it would die out
No one would remember
No one would try
No one would point fingers
When they knew all along
No one would remember who
Who stole the song.
Ticket To Heaven: No RefundsWhen church became a business
And 'God' the product line
and all who once kneeled
In faith now pay the retribution fine
When man exploited miracles
Clipped belief from their cuticles
Placed imagination on a pedestal
all in search of the Devine
a Prophet crucified for profit
atonement paid with change in your pocket
no one thought twice about it
Another clear conscience purchased.
You bought your ticket up to heaven
from the booth set up in Hell
and all you could see was roses
Despite the sulphur that you smelled
You bought your ticket ,no refunds now
Destination: pearly gates above
Just enough that jangle in your pocket
You never thought to pay with love.
You never thought to pay with love.
Nothing To Be Blue ForI haven't seen my darkest hour
But many hours have been grey
And I tore at them with colour
Yet grey those hours stayed
I haven't seen the lowest low
But I haven't far to go
Climbed with all my might to get out ontop
And slid further down below
I haven't climbed the highest mountain
Haven't sailed the seven seas
But I've found this middle ground here
and by god my soul is pleased
I haven't kissed the feet of angels
Nor tasted the dust of death
Just lettin fresh air fill my lungs
Till I've got no breath left
Just lettin all this fresh air fill up my chest
till I draw my last breath.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More