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Oblivion
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This is a fictional tale about a ghostwriter who cannot rest until his work is discovered. The song changes tempo half way through to signify falling and oblivion. A former #2.
blue menagerie blue roses music makers mike azzopardi mikeazzo azzo
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Fresh from the UK! Rhythmic, Moving and Climatic and Catchy. Putting Acoustic Rock back on the map!
Blue Menagerie is all about free music and performance. It is an acoustic project putting together all of the best material I have written under one collective name. It is basically a life's story about my experiences, observations and opinions. The Blue Menagerie vision started about 10 years ago and I have songs that have lasted that long. Although my style has changed over the years and my writing has matured, sometimes the early raw, naive stuff is some of the most original you write. Who was it that said all music is either plagerism or revolution...?
Song Info
Genre
Acoustic • Acoustic Rock
Charts
Peak #16
Peak in subgenre #2
Uploaded
December 17, 2005
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.5 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Lyrics
People change, but I'm afraid of feeling the same way Suddenly I'm in a crowd without a face Reality and time has left this place Everytime I see a plane I think of love Taking off but can't remember if I should or even if my feet did touch the ground Chorus I want to be a bird so I'll never fall again, into oblivion I want to be a star, look down on the earth and then, one day I will return I've become, I've become the man only the mirror sees The cracks have become scars for you and me and fate was never willing to beleive Everytime I see a rose its blue with tears Forever has become the friend I fear how quickly all my moments become years Chorus I want to be a bird so I'll never fall again, into oblivion I want to be a star,look down on the earth and then, one day I'll be reborn i was so desperate for your company and your ghost has spent so much time dining with me day after day, night after night i would look at your face knowing somethings not right everytime i hear the wind i think of you i turn in a moment and feel so confused theres a time and a place, and the distance is here immortal writers would lend me an ear a notebook of memories page after page is left here to crumble and won't rearrange into something where I can read between the lines to half figure out what is so hard to find we were the music makers so it seemed now we are dreamers of forgotten dreams i could not save the words which now are gone i was too late but your spirit lives on
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