Prisoned am I to this shell of the dustIt speaks of only fiction that I could never trust
Captured alive in this sinful estate
Vexed am I to see I do the things that I hate
Rip out the framework leave no stone unturned
Until my heart forgets all that my flesh ever learned
Tear down the structure till nothing is left
God deliver me from this body of death
I can play most instruments enough to be passable. Except guitar, honestly. That one is tough. Bass is more my thing. I can drum but if I think about it too much I lose my rhythm. French horn, trumpet, saxophone? Check. Bagpipes? Yes. Accordion? Easy. Uilleann pipes, of course. Violin, Piano, very well thank you.
And yet all I want to do is sing.
This morning I took the good monitors out into the rain and the cliff so I could belt it out over the sea. Lowly is this morning's efforts. Wolves at the Gate. We're coming back around here. First is the main vocal track and then I layer in minor harmony. Three of those in different keys and then the background screaming harmony.
Well, I can't do it in the house. The studio is ninety-eight percent soundproof but if I'm going to practice my growls I can't have an audience and half the time I zone out on the guitar scale and forget I am supposed to be providing the words. Besides, Ben woke up with another headache and so I'm not going to bother him. Instead he is sleeping late to try and shake the pain this morning while I wear mine as a badge of foolishness and bravery in the face of nothing more than my own tiny shadow.
Oh Blessed man that I am Lowly man who can save such a wretch that I am?I feel like it all just makes it rain harder.
Love it.