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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1939979-Writing-to-Songs
Rated: E · Other · Emotional · #1939979
I didn't write the songs, I wrote to them. Songs listed with artists that sing them.
Female Doctor by Miniature Tigers



High-as-hell boots click down the hallways with authority. There's a smile on the wearer's face that draws you to it. And you are inevitably drawn to it, walking closer until the clips stop and the wearer's eyes look you up from head to toe. You're hopeful that they like what they see, or at least don't dislike it. It doesn't matter if they don't care for you actually. It would just be really nice- to hear just word from those lips directed at you. Even if it's bitter and a little bit cruel, it would be pretty nice to hear words from those pretty lips meant for you.



Dirty Hands by Telekinesis



Dirty hands, for no reason. I plunged my hands into the dirt to find something I thought that I wanted, that I thought I could keep forever. Through the worms, and the grime and the dirt under my finger-nails. With the cuts on my hands, the dirt is making its way in. Now I'm dirty inside too. I found what I thought I was looking for. But when I pulled it up, and cleaned it off, after a long  time I found that it was useless to me.



My Body by Young the Giant



Drag, drag, drag. Drag this bag. It's full of things I found a long time ago, and I can't let them go. They're attached to my hand. It seems that they're a part of me, so I can't. But they're so heavy. Without a doubt, one day this bag of things will drag me down. At that inevitable moment. And it only gets heavier. Do I ever get stronger? Does it even matter? The stronger I get, the older I get, the more time that passes, the more things fill up this bag. And one day I'll become oh so tired, and I'll either die, or I'll cut that bag from my hand. Because I'd value life more than those things. And I'll be amazed to find that



Saw You First by The Givers



Fingers interlock. They're yours and mine.  I don't mind holding your hand, but I wouldn't mind not holding it either. But I do mind holding another person's hand. They're sweaty and don't fit the way yours do. Or maybe I just got used to you. It's alright if that's the case. You didn't need to be perfect in the first place. I just find that when I talk to you, you talk back. If I was a bird, you'd probably be the one to sing back to me, because we're two birds of a feather. You and me. It's okay if my grammar sucks, because I wouldn't mind if you told me so. Maybe I say stuff wrong so that you tell me when I'm wrong, because I don't mind arguing with you. Actually, arguing with you makes me laugh. Sometimes I get a bit embarrassed when I'm wrong- but you never bother me for that. So, that's alright too. I don't mind.



Soul Wars by Awolnation



Flipped the lighter open, quickly jerked the wheel and K-CHOW! There was fire. This fire came from liquid. How strange. You'd think that it'd be put out, but that liquid is inactive fire, yeah? Just like all the things I could burn. Is everything just waiting to burn? I couldn't set water on fire, could I? Or does it just take a longer time to catch fire?
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