Paths Forgot
Spike: What is this? I'm writing a poem? Elflord: Yeah; what's the matter? Spike: Err . . . does it have to be a poem? Elflord: What is it, you don't like poems? Spike: No . . . I mean . . . does it have to be a poem? Elflord: * defensive tone* What do you have against poems? Spike: No . . . they're . . . they're just . . . they're just a little too touchy-feely for me. Elflord: Look here, you, I'm the authoress, and what I say goes around here, and if I say you're writing a poem, you're writing a poem, got it? Spike: Do I at least get to shoot someone? Elflord: NO! Spike: Well, what then? Elflord: There's more to life than killing people, you know. Spike: Not in my game. Elflord: Look, can we just move on? We've gone on for nearly ten lines now and we haven't even put in the disclaimer yet. Spike: Whatever you say, miss "authoress" * snicker*.
Before I end up bashing the main character over the head with a blunt object in frustration, it might be a good time to divert myself with the disclaimer. I don't own Cowboy Bebop or any of the characters pertaining or Session Five or anything else I could be sued for. There. I think that covers it.
* * * Falling from the sky.
Glass coming down like rain
Like so many tears shed by so many eyes
On so many nights on end.
I'm falling.
Falling from the sky.
Suspended in endless animation,
Time is slow and agonizing,
Why is time so slow?
Falling from the sky.
A thousand soundless images,
A thousand amnesia memories
A nameless lullaby.
Colors melting noiselessly
On the canvas of my minds eye
In the silence of the corners of
My tired, entranced memory.
Entrenched in a macabre ballet,
A midnight dance of fire,
Choruses of honest gunshots
Sing with so many muted voices.
I don't feel.
Falling from the sky.
Cloudy skies dancing in my eyes
Reflected back in open pools
The pupils wide and awed.
This is wrong.
Repentance sweetly talks
Maddeningly of paths forgot.
Mornings gone in the past
Presented to Gods of Time.
Menacingly of paths forgot.
Of days given way to roses
Intoxicating my senses in dreams.
And then shattered.
Falling from the sky.
Endless lullabies in my ear,
The golden notes raining down
And crashing in a blaze.
Endless, endless, endless;
Somebody help me.
Falling from the sky.
Shards of lightning dancing
Through the rainy heavens,
Each enigma unraveling
In a haze of incensed smokes.
And still the repentance echoing
Sadistically of paths forgot
Of days spent like honey
Passion in the sunlight
And sweet kisses in twilight.
Broken memories of past times,
Beautiful in the grotesqueness
Of the red, breathing blood
Dropping onto white roses
Doused in the liquor of Death,
Wind's breath on her pale face.
Falling from the sky.
My eyes are half open.
I don't want any more.
Someone make this stop.
For the love of God, stop!
Visions of my carefree days.
And then one day
My whole golden life
Was taken away from me
By an unfeeling blade of Fate.
Falling from the sky.
Here comes the cruel, cold, ground . . .
This is gonna hurt . . .
It's all going black . . .
Oh, if you could just sing
To me one last time . . .
Falling . . .
THE END
Elflord: Wow, that was sad. Spike: No kidding. Elflord: I never knew you were so sensitive. Spike: You were the "authoress." Don't blame it on me. Elflord: Sensitivity is a good thing! I helped you come to grips with pain! Spike: * little itty-bitty tear* I . . . I . . . I don't have pain. Elflord: Spike, are you crying? Spike: * wiping it away quickly* NO! I just got something in my goddamn eye is all! *stomps out of sight*
Well, I guess we'll give him some more time.
Spike: What is this? I'm writing a poem? Elflord: Yeah; what's the matter? Spike: Err . . . does it have to be a poem? Elflord: What is it, you don't like poems? Spike: No . . . I mean . . . does it have to be a poem? Elflord: * defensive tone* What do you have against poems? Spike: No . . . they're . . . they're just . . . they're just a little too touchy-feely for me. Elflord: Look here, you, I'm the authoress, and what I say goes around here, and if I say you're writing a poem, you're writing a poem, got it? Spike: Do I at least get to shoot someone? Elflord: NO! Spike: Well, what then? Elflord: There's more to life than killing people, you know. Spike: Not in my game. Elflord: Look, can we just move on? We've gone on for nearly ten lines now and we haven't even put in the disclaimer yet. Spike: Whatever you say, miss "authoress" * snicker*.
Before I end up bashing the main character over the head with a blunt object in frustration, it might be a good time to divert myself with the disclaimer. I don't own Cowboy Bebop or any of the characters pertaining or Session Five or anything else I could be sued for. There. I think that covers it.
* * * Falling from the sky.
Glass coming down like rain
Like so many tears shed by so many eyes
On so many nights on end.
I'm falling.
Falling from the sky.
Suspended in endless animation,
Time is slow and agonizing,
Why is time so slow?
Falling from the sky.
A thousand soundless images,
A thousand amnesia memories
A nameless lullaby.
Colors melting noiselessly
On the canvas of my minds eye
In the silence of the corners of
My tired, entranced memory.
Entrenched in a macabre ballet,
A midnight dance of fire,
Choruses of honest gunshots
Sing with so many muted voices.
I don't feel.
Falling from the sky.
Cloudy skies dancing in my eyes
Reflected back in open pools
The pupils wide and awed.
This is wrong.
Repentance sweetly talks
Maddeningly of paths forgot.
Mornings gone in the past
Presented to Gods of Time.
Menacingly of paths forgot.
Of days given way to roses
Intoxicating my senses in dreams.
And then shattered.
Falling from the sky.
Endless lullabies in my ear,
The golden notes raining down
And crashing in a blaze.
Endless, endless, endless;
Somebody help me.
Falling from the sky.
Shards of lightning dancing
Through the rainy heavens,
Each enigma unraveling
In a haze of incensed smokes.
And still the repentance echoing
Sadistically of paths forgot
Of days spent like honey
Passion in the sunlight
And sweet kisses in twilight.
Broken memories of past times,
Beautiful in the grotesqueness
Of the red, breathing blood
Dropping onto white roses
Doused in the liquor of Death,
Wind's breath on her pale face.
Falling from the sky.
My eyes are half open.
I don't want any more.
Someone make this stop.
For the love of God, stop!
Visions of my carefree days.
And then one day
My whole golden life
Was taken away from me
By an unfeeling blade of Fate.
Falling from the sky.
Here comes the cruel, cold, ground . . .
This is gonna hurt . . .
It's all going black . . .
Oh, if you could just sing
To me one last time . . .
Falling . . .
THE END
Elflord: Wow, that was sad. Spike: No kidding. Elflord: I never knew you were so sensitive. Spike: You were the "authoress." Don't blame it on me. Elflord: Sensitivity is a good thing! I helped you come to grips with pain! Spike: * little itty-bitty tear* I . . . I . . . I don't have pain. Elflord: Spike, are you crying? Spike: * wiping it away quickly* NO! I just got something in my goddamn eye is all! *stomps out of sight*
Well, I guess we'll give him some more time.