Twenty-eight Days
By: Litt AKA: "Foreigner"
April 7, 2004
When I said see ya later
I didn't mean goodbye,
Hoping I would see you again
Knowing it was a lie.
Coming back, a tradition now,
Like they always do
Changed, better for the growth;
I said forever, I didn't mean you.
I want the good old days
You cherish and hold dear:
My time seems so different
From yours, not so clear.
It was ours for a time, maybe...
Maybe just by chance,
That we could all make it;
You taught me how to dance.
It's a cycle, they tell us,
And we know its called time,
But, it's so soon to let you go
Then again, you were never mine.
Our time will come and we will grin
Count down the days to the end
Leave behind everything we made,
Come back and watch it again.
Watching what you built.
Pride leaning on scrutiny, by a tad
Knowing its over; I'm still here
Loosing the best friend I never had.
For '04
I've been wanting to write something for them for a while now, but I never
seemed to get around to it. 'Vi said I'm on a poesy streak, guess she's
right; Noeru seems to think I should be working with her on our story
rather than scribbling down all these nonsense poems. Either way, for them
both, I was editing everything and I heard a song on TV, ran to the only
working computer in the house and wam! This is the fifth poem I've written
on the spot this month so far, and it worries me: could it mean I have too
much time on my hands and maybe these aren't as complete as I want them to
be, or is there something my muse is trying to tell me? I see them
everyday, it just hit me their leaving. It's a bit more depressing then I'd
wanted, but maybe it's that way because it's true.
~ 'My M.
By: Litt AKA: "Foreigner"
April 7, 2004
When I said see ya later
I didn't mean goodbye,
Hoping I would see you again
Knowing it was a lie.
Coming back, a tradition now,
Like they always do
Changed, better for the growth;
I said forever, I didn't mean you.
I want the good old days
You cherish and hold dear:
My time seems so different
From yours, not so clear.
It was ours for a time, maybe...
Maybe just by chance,
That we could all make it;
You taught me how to dance.
It's a cycle, they tell us,
And we know its called time,
But, it's so soon to let you go
Then again, you were never mine.
Our time will come and we will grin
Count down the days to the end
Leave behind everything we made,
Come back and watch it again.
Watching what you built.
Pride leaning on scrutiny, by a tad
Knowing its over; I'm still here
Loosing the best friend I never had.
For '04
I've been wanting to write something for them for a while now, but I never
seemed to get around to it. 'Vi said I'm on a poesy streak, guess she's
right; Noeru seems to think I should be working with her on our story
rather than scribbling down all these nonsense poems. Either way, for them
both, I was editing everything and I heard a song on TV, ran to the only
working computer in the house and wam! This is the fifth poem I've written
on the spot this month so far, and it worries me: could it mean I have too
much time on my hands and maybe these aren't as complete as I want them to
be, or is there something my muse is trying to tell me? I see them
everyday, it just hit me their leaving. It's a bit more depressing then I'd
wanted, but maybe it's that way because it's true.
~ 'My M.