Burning Fire

My avid readers may have noticed that I have posted everyday for 3 days straight. Do you know why? BECAUSE I GO TO LIBERTY! Their little slogan is "Liberty Means Freedom". (How redundant), but it should really be "Liberty Means Boredom". Have you ever been so bored you seriously think you might go crazy? I have, many a time, and so has Angela. You see, we live in the bustling metropolis of Delaware, Ohio. There is so much to do there, we can't ever decide what to do, so we just sit at home. I'm serious. No, we don't sit at home cuz there is nothing to do. Where did you hear that? But Lynchburg is worse. I don't even have Angela to sit and be bored with. At least we are funny, so we can sit around and laugh together. Here, no one "gets" what I think is funny, so it's just not as cool. Next point. Have you ever looked ahead to a point down in the future and wanted it to come so freakin' bad that you thought you were going to lose it? I have. Like I did today. And yesterday. And Friday. That point is the twentieth day of November of the year two thousand and four. On that beautiful, wonderful day, I will leave Liberty and go HOME! Now, I will get to be home for a week, and then I must come back here to jail. BUT - I will only have to stay here 2 or 3 weeks and then ... drumroll, please ... I go home for a month!!!!! They will have to drag me out of the house, and push my car down the driveway to make me come back here after that. I need a concert so bad. A good one. With Angela. She is my concert buddy and no one else is, even though many people try to be. I won't name names. Wanna read some great lyrics? Ones I swear I wrote, even though I didn't? Here ya go:

Every Friday at three
shadows escape from the factory.
If you can go to the show,
hurry up and get back to me.
Tonight we meet underground
where the air is thick like mud,
and the bands make noise
that we call audio blood.
Every weekend we're ignighting
like chemical fires.
Youth centers fill with teens.
They fill with vampires.

Sweating in the dark we're freed
as the weight of the week
falls away with a thud.
Sweating in the dark we feed
on the forms in the light;
on the floor we're the flood.
We bleed, we bleed, we bleed
audio blood.

And through the week,
whispers follow the shadows down the halls.
Our handstamps fade,
and I cringe at the stupid names we're called.
Every weekend we are massing,
seeking sonic escape.
The shadows flood the floor
and start to take shape.

This is how we bleed in audio...
let down your skin,
let the wind blow through your veins.

That's Audio Blood, by The Matches. Vocals by my very own Adrian. I'm glad nobody reads this. They'd think I was crazy. But I'm not. I swear. I'm just really bored. I guess I should at least have something to say when I post on here, but now would that be fun? Probably. I will try to have a semi-deep point next time I write. I promise...