In light of The Guild's funny "Do You Wanna Date My Avatar?" video, here's a song I wrote in tribute to the show months back. I used to play MMOs more than is healthy. MMOs were my introduction to online socializing in general. It's doubtful I would have even one blog now if not for EQ, SWG, and other online games.
Anyway, this song's more serious than really fits Felicia Day's satire, but eventually I'll record it and offer it to the cast for free use. I tried to write the lyrics so that they had relevance for people who don't follow The Guild as well.
hello, impatient morning sun
i had just begun
to get into the flow of my day
there's always one more quest for me
and in this quest i see
the faces of my true companions
though we walk apart by day
the guild is all i claim
to carry into my tomorrow
as different as we can be
but you're still a part of me
talking so long from afar
it's kinda strange when our
friendship becomes face-to-face
secrets lain before the eyes
and do they see inside?
i see
though we walk apart by day
the guild is all i claim
to carry into my tomorrow
as different as we can be
but you're still a part of me
(solo)
on the line, i wait for you
there will always be things you must do
apart from me
in those countless lonely times
i know that you'll find me soon
though we walk apart by day
the guild is all i claim
to carry into my tomorrow
as different as we can be
but you're still a part of me
Monday, August 17, 2009
Friday, July 24, 2009
The Ivory Staircase
This is just a little excerpt from a fantasy novel I'm working on; the beginning, as it stands. I only began brainstorming and writing bits these past few weeks, so the finished book (if there ever is one) might look very different.
It was in my fifteenth summer that I first climbed the ivory staircase.
Master Viseer was renowned as a great hunter. He had traveled many lands and hunted many beasts. The staircase was built with the tusks of endelbun and hendsworn, horns of chargers and brucken, spears of lampfish. The bones were fused together with a paste mixed with the dust of other bones. The staircase shone brightly in the summer sun. A faint reflection of myself seemed to slither in front of me as I climbed, step by clapping step.
The rest of the Master's home similarly bore witness to a hunter's love. Along the walls were engraved vines of lapis lazuli with milkstone thorns and leaves of emerald. There were braziers made of antler and rugs of foreign furs... many from creatures unknown to me. I, too, was a hunter. And I found it difficult to be proud of my own trophies in view of such magnificent spectacles.
Master Viseer was not an especially wealthy man. But he had once saved the King's life, and the King insisted on rewarding the action by building Viseer a grand house of the hunter's own design. Beyond neighboring towns, Viseer held no title. But many found it impossible to address anyone who lived in such a grand home as if he was just a normal fellow.
The Master awaited me in a low uncushioned chair, gazing fondly out a window toward the Gleam Forest. It was named so for the way the seagreen treetops would sometimes appear to glow during a mist. I knew the Gleam well.
"Ah, Oske! Come, boy! Have a seat." Master Viseer was a perpetually cheerful and lively man; always energetic, though he often preferred to simply sit in some quiet place where he could read or take in a vista's charms. He wore a short peppered beard, neatly clipped, that was apparently stolen from his bald head. His nose and ears were rather large, befitting a devoted predator. Red, tanned skin gave his bright blue eyes a boldness that evoked timidity in most men, though they seemed friendly enough to me. He wore a white spun shirt, worn loosely, with a leather vest imprinted with many iridescent scales. His pants were simple and grey. His boots were old and worn, frayed at the edges.
...
It was in my fifteenth summer that I first climbed the ivory staircase.
Master Viseer was renowned as a great hunter. He had traveled many lands and hunted many beasts. The staircase was built with the tusks of endelbun and hendsworn, horns of chargers and brucken, spears of lampfish. The bones were fused together with a paste mixed with the dust of other bones. The staircase shone brightly in the summer sun. A faint reflection of myself seemed to slither in front of me as I climbed, step by clapping step.
The rest of the Master's home similarly bore witness to a hunter's love. Along the walls were engraved vines of lapis lazuli with milkstone thorns and leaves of emerald. There were braziers made of antler and rugs of foreign furs... many from creatures unknown to me. I, too, was a hunter. And I found it difficult to be proud of my own trophies in view of such magnificent spectacles.
Master Viseer was not an especially wealthy man. But he had once saved the King's life, and the King insisted on rewarding the action by building Viseer a grand house of the hunter's own design. Beyond neighboring towns, Viseer held no title. But many found it impossible to address anyone who lived in such a grand home as if he was just a normal fellow.
The Master awaited me in a low uncushioned chair, gazing fondly out a window toward the Gleam Forest. It was named so for the way the seagreen treetops would sometimes appear to glow during a mist. I knew the Gleam well.
"Ah, Oske! Come, boy! Have a seat." Master Viseer was a perpetually cheerful and lively man; always energetic, though he often preferred to simply sit in some quiet place where he could read or take in a vista's charms. He wore a short peppered beard, neatly clipped, that was apparently stolen from his bald head. His nose and ears were rather large, befitting a devoted predator. Red, tanned skin gave his bright blue eyes a boldness that evoked timidity in most men, though they seemed friendly enough to me. He wore a white spun shirt, worn loosely, with a leather vest imprinted with many iridescent scales. His pants were simple and grey. His boots were old and worn, frayed at the edges.
...
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Could Have Been
This lyric's pretty simple and straightforward. When I started writing lyrics, they tended to be more poetic, but I have a lot of admiration for plain-spoken lyrics and story lyrics. My lyrics also tend to be didactic, since how to live rightly is always on my mind.
man, look at her move
there's nothing like it when she's wiggling down
she's getting down with the wrong guy
so spicy, so cold
when she's spinning back around my way
she's spinning 'way into the wrong arms
could have been, should have been mine
could have been, should have been mine
but then i take a step or two away
and get to feeling richer for
the better things parked 'round my door
damn, that's a fine car
can i take it once around the road?
i'm feeling owed at least one drive
why stop in this gear?
there's plenty pavement up ahead, and i...
i've got to fly
got to test these wheels
could have been, should have been mine
could have been, should have been mine
but then i take a step or two away
and get to feeling richer for
the better things parked 'round my door
am i still satisfied
to squeeze my soul into their eyes?
or can i still be my own?
take my advice, friend
contentment doesn't mean there's nothing more you want to do
just nothing more you've got to have
could have been, should have been mine
could have been, should have been mine
but then i take a step or two away
and get to feeling richer for
the better things parked 'round my door
man, look at her move
there's nothing like it when she's wiggling down
she's getting down with the wrong guy
so spicy, so cold
when she's spinning back around my way
she's spinning 'way into the wrong arms
could have been, should have been mine
could have been, should have been mine
but then i take a step or two away
and get to feeling richer for
the better things parked 'round my door
damn, that's a fine car
can i take it once around the road?
i'm feeling owed at least one drive
why stop in this gear?
there's plenty pavement up ahead, and i...
i've got to fly
got to test these wheels
could have been, should have been mine
could have been, should have been mine
but then i take a step or two away
and get to feeling richer for
the better things parked 'round my door
am i still satisfied
to squeeze my soul into their eyes?
or can i still be my own?
take my advice, friend
contentment doesn't mean there's nothing more you want to do
just nothing more you've got to have
could have been, should have been mine
could have been, should have been mine
but then i take a step or two away
and get to feeling richer for
the better things parked 'round my door
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Pretty Thorn
Here's another lyric. I promise I'll post another short story eventually, but music's what I do most. This lyric's an extended metaphor and perhaps stretched a bit much.
if they saw you as a rosebush in winter
they thought your thorns would melt with the snow
but how they would ever hold you, i don't know
i always saw the thorns past the flower
and now the flower’s grown too tall
you better stick someone to hold you now
i tried to hold you up
but you backed away
and i stay away
you fell again and again
if you won’t let me in
there’s nothing more for me to give
heart bleeding from the grip that would hold you
you broke away to climb other walls
so here i step away and there you fall
always in a light that plays shadows
over the thorns you show me
but how you cry when they try to cut them away
i tried to hold you up
but you backed away
and i stay away
you fell again and again
if you won’t let me in
there’s nothing more for me to give
you want to grow in sunlight so badly
but i was built in this dark earth
and i can only hold the ones who lean my way
how can you raise a fern in the desert?
why do you try to change your leaves?
well, i'll be waiting in the shade here
i tried to hold you up
but you backed away
and i stay away
you fell again and again
if you won’t let me in
there’s nothing more for me to give
if they saw you as a rosebush in winter
they thought your thorns would melt with the snow
but how they would ever hold you, i don't know
i always saw the thorns past the flower
and now the flower’s grown too tall
you better stick someone to hold you now
i tried to hold you up
but you backed away
and i stay away
you fell again and again
if you won’t let me in
there’s nothing more for me to give
heart bleeding from the grip that would hold you
you broke away to climb other walls
so here i step away and there you fall
always in a light that plays shadows
over the thorns you show me
but how you cry when they try to cut them away
i tried to hold you up
but you backed away
and i stay away
you fell again and again
if you won’t let me in
there’s nothing more for me to give
you want to grow in sunlight so badly
but i was built in this dark earth
and i can only hold the ones who lean my way
how can you raise a fern in the desert?
why do you try to change your leaves?
well, i'll be waiting in the shade here
i tried to hold you up
but you backed away
and i stay away
you fell again and again
if you won’t let me in
there’s nothing more for me to give
Friday, March 6, 2009
A Season For War
This is one of my handful of fantasy lyrics. Perhaps among my better songs, too. Pretty brutal, though, now that I think about it. As you can imagine, it's a metal song.
can you see see? can you hear?
this is a season for war
everything lying still
wondering what the silence is for
a calm rises
where's the wind that precedes the storm?
feel it rise, feel it fall
breathing like a hungry dog
will it strike in the night?
tear the mighty down in a fog?
i'm dreaming
the howling of a ghostly throng
run if you want to
the wardrums will find you
still reeling from the last season of war
it was told in the tales
of the elders now we scorn
it would come once again
break the fragile peace that was born
from their loss
life out of the ash of war
first the drums from the hills
then the glare of fiery skies
it will come like a rage
callous to the fearful and dying
what flies now -
o'er the heads of this wraithen hoard?
smoke on the horizon
light shine on the writhing
still reeling from the last season of war
not a spear, not a sword
isn't taken up in hand
we will fight, we will hold
like the very stones of this land
oh, fortune!
lead me to the tallest horns
we march through the never
speak these names forever
keep screaming through the last season of war
can you see see? can you hear?
this is a season for war
everything lying still
wondering what the silence is for
a calm rises
where's the wind that precedes the storm?
feel it rise, feel it fall
breathing like a hungry dog
will it strike in the night?
tear the mighty down in a fog?
i'm dreaming
the howling of a ghostly throng
run if you want to
the wardrums will find you
still reeling from the last season of war
it was told in the tales
of the elders now we scorn
it would come once again
break the fragile peace that was born
from their loss
life out of the ash of war
first the drums from the hills
then the glare of fiery skies
it will come like a rage
callous to the fearful and dying
what flies now -
o'er the heads of this wraithen hoard?
smoke on the horizon
light shine on the writhing
still reeling from the last season of war
not a spear, not a sword
isn't taken up in hand
we will fight, we will hold
like the very stones of this land
oh, fortune!
lead me to the tallest horns
we march through the never
speak these names forever
keep screaming through the last season of war
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
My Necromancer
This lyric isn't as serious as the last, though you'd never guess that by the title. Only a gamer would refer to a woman as "my necromancer", haha.
she walks out of the hotel
somebody's arm wrapped around her waist
she sneaks away slyly to see me
but for me there is no embrace
that's the way that she keeps it between her and me
she lets them touch, and she lets me see
but somehow, i can't walk away
we go out for some dinner
she says we're not together, but it seems i always pay
she asks if i would drop her
at this guy's place... she says that it's on the way
that's the way that she keeps it between me and her
there's no welcome, but i never learn
as long as she's got a smile for me
yeah, she's my little necromancer
brought me back to life, but she won't let me dance with her
i keep trying to get her out of my mind
but you can't leave the heart behind
i get a call in the morning
when i say "morning", i mean three or four in the A.M.
it sounds like she's been crying
and needs a ride... would i pick her up once again?
that's the way that she keeps it, and i don't mind
nobody else can see past my eyes
so i get ready for a drive
yeah, she's my little necromancer
brought me back to life, but she won't let me dance with her
i keep trying to get her out of my mind
but you can't leave the heart behind
she's brought me to the brink of me
i'm aching to be free
but free to choose her once again
she's still my only end
i'm moving out of this town
far away... and have you heard? she's moving too
she "didn't know" i was leaving
but she's moving to the same place
she likes to torture me, but can't always hide the needs
i'm her strength, she's the one who leads
the rose on top of the thorny vine
yeah, she's my little necromancer
brought me back to life, but she won't let me dance with her
i keep trying to get her out of my mind
but you can't leave the heart behind
yeah, she's my little necromancer
brought me back to life, but she won't let dance with her
i keep trying to get her out of my mind
but you can't leave the heart behind
i can't leave the heart behind
no, i just can't leave the heart behind
she walks out of the hotel
somebody's arm wrapped around her waist
she sneaks away slyly to see me
but for me there is no embrace
that's the way that she keeps it between her and me
she lets them touch, and she lets me see
but somehow, i can't walk away
we go out for some dinner
she says we're not together, but it seems i always pay
she asks if i would drop her
at this guy's place... she says that it's on the way
that's the way that she keeps it between me and her
there's no welcome, but i never learn
as long as she's got a smile for me
yeah, she's my little necromancer
brought me back to life, but she won't let me dance with her
i keep trying to get her out of my mind
but you can't leave the heart behind
i get a call in the morning
when i say "morning", i mean three or four in the A.M.
it sounds like she's been crying
and needs a ride... would i pick her up once again?
that's the way that she keeps it, and i don't mind
nobody else can see past my eyes
so i get ready for a drive
yeah, she's my little necromancer
brought me back to life, but she won't let me dance with her
i keep trying to get her out of my mind
but you can't leave the heart behind
she's brought me to the brink of me
i'm aching to be free
but free to choose her once again
she's still my only end
i'm moving out of this town
far away... and have you heard? she's moving too
she "didn't know" i was leaving
but she's moving to the same place
she likes to torture me, but can't always hide the needs
i'm her strength, she's the one who leads
the rose on top of the thorny vine
yeah, she's my little necromancer
brought me back to life, but she won't let me dance with her
i keep trying to get her out of my mind
but you can't leave the heart behind
yeah, she's my little necromancer
brought me back to life, but she won't let dance with her
i keep trying to get her out of my mind
but you can't leave the heart behind
i can't leave the heart behind
no, i just can't leave the heart behind
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Under a Desert Sun
I'm off to a great start -- a whole week and nothing more posted! Well, here's a quick remedy.
I'm, first and foremost, a songwriter. So here's a lyric. I'll try to get this recorded and up for listening in the coming days, but no promises.
beneath a desert sun, our hearts want to hide away
when every dream runs dry, how do you hope for rain?
again i fall and wipe this dust from my eyes
did i get everything this time?
i hear the sound of my salvation, and i tune it out again
it seems i'm always looking in
when home is out there somewhere
well, i'm headed home today
a little baby cries and cries in her mother's arms
the pain is far away, but she goes on and on
you see it every night and day
how the tears, they just won't go away
but there's smiles and there's laughs and there's hope raining all the time
we take it all onto our shoulders, and we never let it go
so one by one we break under the load
and an offered hand is filled with tears
well, i'll take that hand now
i'll take that hand now
you know, there's a right time to push forward
i call it "every day"
but you don't have to make your own way
under a desert sun
I'm, first and foremost, a songwriter. So here's a lyric. I'll try to get this recorded and up for listening in the coming days, but no promises.
beneath a desert sun, our hearts want to hide away
when every dream runs dry, how do you hope for rain?
again i fall and wipe this dust from my eyes
did i get everything this time?
i hear the sound of my salvation, and i tune it out again
it seems i'm always looking in
when home is out there somewhere
well, i'm headed home today
a little baby cries and cries in her mother's arms
the pain is far away, but she goes on and on
you see it every night and day
how the tears, they just won't go away
but there's smiles and there's laughs and there's hope raining all the time
we take it all onto our shoulders, and we never let it go
so one by one we break under the load
and an offered hand is filled with tears
well, i'll take that hand now
i'll take that hand now
you know, there's a right time to push forward
i call it "every day"
but you don't have to make your own way
under a desert sun
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