Thoughts of a Violinist Giraffe

She sits across, arms folded as reserved guards on a quiet night. The warm yellow candle lights bathe her                 in enduring sunset. She offers time as a glass; conversation pours and fills it. Dinner displays itself, prayers offered, an incense climbing to God's throne.             Alone in a sea of revelers, they wonder what the future offers in a dying world, a twisted kingdom. She deplores the manners lost to lust, like raving wolves, and garish self-interest. "We are the makers of manners",                       replies he in dreadful earnest, steely, warm eyes hardened with resolve. They smile as night burns auburn. They smile, though torches crackle, holding the heavy weight            of encroaching darkness, clawed by unkind eyes that despise           pure light and ju...

Dust gathers with the dawn. Eyes adjust to welcome light. Night seems a fading memory that repeats time and time again - here at once, and at once is gone. He remembers her most during warm, doting dusk. Memories shared float through his mind at all hours, but finds her occupied in his thoughts as night invites the starlight to host every ephemeral evening. Night breaks as mellow sunlight streams through the cracks of horizon. She runs fingers through her rivers of jet black hair. She stares at her morning tinged silhouette, curious how he fares so many miles - whole worlds - away. Is he okay, in every sense of the minuscule word? The lax air of day envelops her as she writes heartfelt music, which tugs, tears, and ties us down in a bundled mess, unable to cope with the notes of musical articulation. He must confess, last he heard her musical canvas, he saw the firmament bend down, sparkling at each sound. He felt it was love. She knew it was emotio...

Tame were her words, aimed at the empty, cold air. Fading rage replaced with despair, she stays in place, unable to shake the aches out like one shakes hair. There is a soreness in her heart, where she can't place proper thought like pins on a wear-worn map. She ventures to curse as she ought, but it merits nothing. She reasons this must be her lot in life, yet hopes at one point                          that she will snap. Then, she can flounder as much as                       she so desires. The dim fire that fuels and tires her continues to burn within borders                                 that corner her heart.                            She stops and starts        with every...

Time has folded on itself, every step I take further into moss-covered, cobbled streets and surrounded by sun-bricked suites housing minute circles of education. I stop to breathe before the waves of nostalgia surge over me, threatening violence. Shaking, nearly shivering, I venture forward, unfamiliar faces overlapped by familiar thoughts. Memories trigger, my footsteps on timeless landmines. I find time has been most unkind to my memory. Emerging unscathed, though certainly fazed, my eyes continue to wander. Should I wonder any longer that all is the same, yet so very different? All is an ephemeral carnival of blurred reminiscence. Opportunities lost, mistakes cemented by foolish character, childish rashness burning countless bridges out of fear of persecution, only to gain sure tribulation on the soul. How much searching of my frail soul, did I go? Knowing this soul of mine could die, I sought redemption in Christ. And now, after a perfect number of...

Tainted kings have destroyed our innocence, corrupted our heads and hands, dipping all others we reach in a sea of unclean blood. Nothing stands under such baleful eyes. Some of us flee to unperceived mountain abodes, where, in separation, lies a purer air that surrounds us. All have come to despise us, unwise in their ill-influenced thoughts, shaped by the touch of corrupted crowns. We lose all strength to oppose them. When shall the True King establish Himself? He is tarnished by the roaring, black, frothing seas of tainted kings. He suffers long their poisonous speech. They rave, hungering frail meat to ravish. All behold incorrigible sin in disgust, the world reveling in the lusts of their choosing. A little while longer, and the usurpers shall be deposed. A little while longer, and the fiendish rulers shall tremble before the Heavens. In persecution, we rest in the promise of His coming. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Something a bit more religiously them...

The following are lyrics I've personally written for a cover. What that cover is, will only be shown after  it has been finished. Thanks everyone, cheers! I never thought you’d take me for granted, seeing how we gave first glances like a charity drive at the Salvation Army; we were always a first-class party though. You know, it was hardly the kind of thing one can mistake over a plate of cake and cups of tea every date we’d make. But I suppose it was part of the romance we ate in small doses. The closest we could ever get were small smiles and communication to say how we really feel; was it ever real? It never seemed to be no matter how many parties for two we’d do. We’d drive through emotions and regret it soon after. Laughter once had is lost in the sea of emotion. When did all this become mere commotion, a sight for passersby to whip their eyes at as fast as the lies you’d whip out per contact on a near daily basis? I’d call racist wi...