Lullaby

"Lullaby" as written and performed by Torn the author.

Shot with the Canon T2i, and edited on Final Cut Pro by Stephen Tuplin.


--- LYRICS---
I tried to sleep again last night.

Nothing happened. I guess the timing wasn't right. Or maybe every sight of night is what
makes me stop being tired.

My mind began to drift to thoughts of ancient memories; people and places long gone...
only thing left of them is plenty rusty shell casings, pain is made within my emery,
hardening inside my mind. Sanity, beneath me. Hatred loves me, graves bow to my powder.

Staring at the ceiling, black and dark blood seeping through my veins, darkening
my scars... I feel I need a cigarette, but my lungs are already aching from the coughing,
so instead I take 10 ibuprophen in a row... simply hoping my control of mental states
stays open.

Stoked; I'm wishing I had that tattoo, because it seems I keep forgetting... my peace
and love... thought it might be gone, perplex the devils yarns with awes and shredded
cloves of neighborhood stories.

I exist, not even tired when I lie down, yawning when I try to move. Seems my control
of self is slipping, and what if I had that tattoo?

Seems to me I could remember who and what I am, or am not at least; worries like the
revelations of a beast is my least, it's like my body lives, but my soul was long
deceased and I feel I need a confessional and a priest to say my prayers at night.

98.6 degrees Fahrenheit, my health isn't really a problem; so it must be my temper
plainly, makes me think of past fights that I wish I hadn't won so thoroughly, or maybe
just lost less.

Night terrors of... power. My body locked in a tall rusty metal machine, my love is
cowered in a corner, but my blood and soul is soldered to metal chains in separate
towers...

In my mind I sing songs as I gather kitchen cooking knives, each for a separate heart
which runs with my own lines and don't even consider mending them with stitching. I'm
happy while I'm singing this little lullaby of mine.

Ever wish you could capture the feeling of another sense?

The emotion of cold air, the way it makes your chest feel as you light a match, or spark
a lighter to light your disease... rainy summer nights or snowy winter mornings, still
dark outside, no footprints... how it feels to... have your hands so callused you
can't feel her skin.

While I can't sleep, lying in bed, everything about that day is repeating in my mind,
keeping steady, talking, yelling, cursing, telling, waking, walking around inside my
head taking bats to every brain cell and beating on my ear drum until my psychosis
decides it's had enough and it's time to stop listening... and my hearing and feeling
is cut through... and my color, and, almost my sight too.

And then, I wake up.

My lullaby.

Category:

Film & Animation

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[Drig01]

illl

[StillAware]

Looking pro! Love the depth in this. "In my mind I sing songs as I gather kitchen cooking knives, each for a separate heart which runs with my own lines and don't even consider mending them with stitching..."