This pen of mine doens't write anymore. It's used up all it's ink. The papers on my desk don't fill up like they used to. My mind is so blank and i'll never know why. Those words I wrote were the last ones, my life, my body, my blood. What I used to say doesn't work anymore and it's not that I want to stop. But when you've reached your breaking point, you fall down from the top.
And it's creeping back to me these chords that I don't want to see. They don't fit these words anymore and they never will. It's like i've lost my ability to speak, and it's never coming back. My words are gone and this pen stays dry and i'm just a lonely guitar player and this is my cry.
My guitar sits in the shadows now it's not a piece of me. It's when I look back that my mind still wonders to those 6 little blunders, the A, the B, The C, The D, the E, the F or the G. I'm tired, i'm lonely and i'm feeling so low, and these notes aren't helping so i wish they'd just go. Over the top i'm just a musical flop and a sell out to corporate flair. I'm not what I seem i'm cool but not clean these eyes are meant to stare.
And it's creeping back to me these chords that I don't want to see. They don't fit these words anymore and they never will. It's like i've lost my ability to speak, and it's never coming back. My words are gone and this pen stays dry and i'm just a lonely guitar player and this is my cry.
Something i wrote about losing your inspiration. I haven't had any new ideas flow into me for a while. And I apologize for that.
J-moose
