Free download
Collabs from the MusesMuse and some recited poetry/lyrics.
Song Info
Genre
Charts
Peak #174
Peak in subgenre #38
Author
Sarah Frohmberg
Rights
Frohmberg 2007
Uploaded
January 26, 2007
Track Files
MP3
MP3 4.5 MB • 80 kbps • 7:48
Story behind the song
My life this week. Great inspiration, eh?
Lyrics
It all started on Sunday.
Now, Sunday is a good day,
it's the Lord's Day
and usually, I'd say that would be a
good day to start something. Anything.
Well, almost anything.
But not for me.
Nooooo, I have to be different.
A nonconformist, if you will.
Boy, won't my students be so glad to know
that even I apply our school lessons
in my everyday life?
To continue. It started on Sunday.
My mother called at 7am – sharp
like she said she would
(if there was ever a time where she would forget something
that would've been the time,
but noooooo mine is the mother that forgets
she didn't say anything
so we get punished for not doing what she didn't say)
Anyway, she called.
My head ached
I could feel my brains dripping down the back of my throat
Everything felt sore. Everything.
“We decided not to risk going to church today,
the roads are too icy.”
“Okay, thanks Mom. I don't feel well anyway.”
“Well, make sure you don't stay up too late
and drink plenty of fluids.”
“I will mom.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
We said our good byes and I instantly fell asleep.
And I slept.
And I slept.
And I slept.
And I kept sleeping.
I slept for close to twenty hours
only breaking to relieve my to-the-point-of bursting bladder
(yes, I drank lots of fluids, Mom)
very small meals
and an online awards show
I cannot really count the movie -
yes I was awake for “Dr. Strangelove or:
How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb”
but I wouldn't call my self completely conscious.
Lucid enough to appreciate the brilliance of George C. Scott
but conscious, hell no.
Monday morning (now that's the day for bad starts,
wouldn't you agree?) I woke up, felt fine.
Fine that is after I hocked the hugest loogie in my bathroom sink
(I was coughing so violently, I thought I'd actually upchuck
an entire lung!)
And the bloody thing was bloody!
I had some fleeting thoughts about how I probably have
The Consumption
but seeing as I wasn't coughing anymore,
I finished getting ready
and skipped off to school.
Tuesday, well, Tuesday was a hoarse of a different color.
I completely lost my voice.
I literally went around the office and told all the secretaries,
Everything's A Big Secret
All I could do was barely whisper (the more I whispered
the quieter the whisper became) and I felt like I was
some sort of spy – everything was
hush hush
on the low down
under the table
To add insult to injury
my so-called friends continued to compare me with
the likes of Suzanne Pleshette
or worse
Kathleen Turner
Darn you Derrick
Darn you to heck Brian
I mean
seriously
Kathleen Turner?!
She played Chandler Bing's FATHER on “Friends” for Chissake!
My one and only consolation is that
they both thought their comparisons
were the tantamount of calling my voice
sexy.
About this time, I also discovered a small bump on my shin.
Much like a pimple, but not a pimple.
Great, now not only are my lungs rapidly deteriorating with an ancient disease
(but it goes well with my other – completely legitimate – Victorian ailment I really do have:
pleurisy) I now have some sort of tumor. Probably malignant. Probably cancerous.
Probably going to have to amputate the lower half of my body
(think Kenneth Branagh's character from “Wild, Wild West”).
Yes, Hypochondriac's Anonymous is on my speed dial.
My brother thinks it's probably my twin. I try not to think about
hair and nails and teeth in the little bump on my shin.
Wednesday and Thursday fly by like
the breeze that plagued me with this disease.
Still no voice.
Still walking around telling Big Secrets.
It's hard for people to believe me when I say I'm fin
when I sound like Death Warmed Over.
Thursday night, I decide to go to the restaurant
where I waitress on the weekends
to talk to Amy in person.
First, I didn't think she'd believe me if I called in,
but more importantly, I don't think she'd be able
