By: Kit Carson
I generally avoid writing down these kind of things. They come across always cheesy, cliche. Over done or done horribly wrong these thoughts generally don't cross my mind in honest enough detail for me to express the words adequately. Even now I must tread lightly as my lyrics step onward; like Indie before me I must spell out my own Jehovah.
Killing me softly. I know the meaning. I've found the inspiration to thousands of words and lyrics to a song that I wasn't even sure I knew. But the phrase calls out in a blissful reminder that even with the feelings of crazed ridiculousness the little flash of light changes the very world.
I'm stupid with emotion. To fathom the very thoughts that course through the veins of the beating heart. To hear the chord progression as I die to her words, her song. I bleed. But not yet to force, rush the thought of feeling; simply nurture, kindle the flame born between the conscious minds.
Click click goes the white lighter in the lap. I must finish. I must proceed to continue with my present ventures. Not for nothing else but the mere chance at this. I will for no reason more try. This happenstance shall not occur so readily again. Killing me softly. Hah.
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