I'm Sticking With You

September 4th, 2020
I'm Sticking With You

I'm sticking with you
'Cause I'm made out of glue
Anything that you might do
I'm gonna do too

You held up a stagecoach in the rain
And I'm doing the same
Saw you hanging from a tree
And I made believe it was me

I'm sticking with you
'Cause I'm made out of glue
Anything that you might do
I'm gonna do too

Moon people going to the stratosphere
Soldiers fighting with the Cong
But with you by my side, I can do anything
When we swing, we hang past right and wrong

I'll do anything for you
Anything you want me to
I'll do anything for you
Oh, oh, I'm sticking with you
Oh, oh, I'm sticking with you
Oh, oh, I'm sticking with you
Oh, oh, I'm sticking with you
Oh, oh, I'm sticking with you
Oh, oh, I'm sticking with you
Oh, oh, I'm sticking with you

I want to be able to write words that read like Picasso's pencil drawings.
I want to build multitudes between commas, a universe from stop to stop.

Turn the page and reveal a new world is revealed.

Words like music, words like art.

Lover, You Should've Come Over.

Looking out the door I see the rain
Fall upon the funeral mourners
Parading in a wake of sad relations
As their shoes fill up with water
Maybe I'm too young
To keep good love from going wrong
But tonight you're on my mind
So you never know

Broken down and hungry for your love
With no way to feed it
Where are you tonight, child
You know how much I need it
Too young to hold on
And too old to just break free and run

Sometimes a man gets carried away
When he feels like he should be having his fun
And much too blind to see the damage he's done
Sometimes a man must awake to find that really, he has no-one
So I'll wait for you, and I'll burn
Will I ever see your sweet return
Oh, will I ever learn?

Oh lover, you should've come over
Cause it's not too late

Lonely is the room, the bed is made
The open window lets the rain in
Burning in the corner is the only one
Who dreams he had you with him
My body turns and yearns
For a sleep that won't ever come
It's never over
My kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder
It's never over
All my riches for her smiles when I slept so soft against her
It's never over
All my blood for the sweetness of her laughter
It's never over
She's the tear that hangs inside my soul forever
Well maybe I'm just too young
To keep good love from going wrong

Oh... Ohh... Ohhhhh... Ohhhhhh...
Ohh..... lover, you should've come over
Yes, yes, I feel too young to hold on
And I'm much too old to break free and run
Too deaf, dumb, and blind to see the damage I've done
Sweet lover, you should've come over
Oh, love well I'll wait for you
Lover, lover, lover
Lover, lover, lover, lover, lover, lover
Lover, lover, lover you should've come over
Cause it's not too late

These are the words I wish I could write. Lover, You Should've Come Over.

Lover. The one I love.

You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You. You.

Should. Could. Would.

Have. To Have. To Have Not.

Come.

Over.

So many different sounds. So many ways of speaking and hearing.

Sometimes I feel so Happy. Sometimes I feel so Sad.

Linger on... Your Pale Blue Eyes.

Linger ooooooooooooooooon... Your Pale Blue Eyes.

My Mountain Top.

Thought of you as everything...

I want to write stories that people can't put down, with characters they believe are real, in worlds that they can see in their eyes.

I want to inscribe into stone a symphony of simple melodies.

I want to open the chest of the English Language and divine its secrets, spreading them bare for all to see.

Skip a life completely.

Down for you is up.

I'm moving to paper now.

On paper I wrote some of my favourite words, and watched a video that taught me how to draw hands, or rather, the basics of how to learn to draw hands. Start with a slightly off rectangle, four digits that splay outwards, rounded bottoms, flat tops, simplify the nail, too much details makes hands look old.

Sausage. A long word with a beautiful sense of reflection without being a palindrome. Especially in the French saucisson. The soh-see-soh comes together so cleanly in the mouth without spilling out.

Candle. So much simplicity in a word that sparks a considerable amount of imagery. Warmth, light. Fragility.

Structure. The word implies the thing. You could stand on this word and it would hold your weight. The two Ts act as a foundation for whatever you're building upon.

Beetle. Three Es.

Mouse. Mouse and house are wonderful words.

Lemon. This is the word that always, always springs to mind when someone says think of a word, or think of something. Usually lemonade. Lemonade. I can't escape the word lemonade it is buried deep in my subconscious and I have no idea why.

Partridge. A fat bird in a tree. Alan Partridge. Implies a lot of comedy without the comedian. The same way pigeons and pheasants (all P birds) do.

Flamboyant.

Poignant. Has no right to be a word. Comes from Latin via French. Prick or Sting. Quite satisfying to type as well, you can run across from the P on the right to the G in one fluid movement. poignant. Bounce of the A and roll back. On that theme, I've always thought Where is lovely to type, and there, here, all those ERE words. Always is Rubbish.

Miracle. Also, Wonderful. Especially wonderful. I have often said that that word doesn't get the attention it deserves.