The band was fighting; he had to leave before he killed someone. His mood was something to be desired, he'd had an interesting scare at a doctor's office this afternoon, so for once he wasn't high, he was writing. His handwriting, like chicken scratch, scratched across the notepad, he sighs a little and picks up his mug, drinking, holding his cigarette and rereading what he'd gotten:

Days like these

when the fire burns throughout my body,

its flames course through my veins.

Days like these

when there is nothing,

nothing but the darkness behind my cold eyes.

The icy glare that I meet you with,

Shows nothing but the deepest black of my heart.

Its days like these that bring my anger to a peak.

The pain,

the suffering,

the pursuit of something better,

it all falls into the abyss on these dark days.

Days like these

When the hot tears flow unwarranted from my eyes

And the sadness seeps out uncontrolled,

Its days like these

When the storm grows dark in our skies

When the clouds break under too much stress

And the rain comes to set us free.

Sweet rain that falls as tears from a wounded sky.

Tears from the Gods in all their glory and their honor,

When the world has grown too heavy for them to bear

And they fall upon their knees,

Its days like these when the Gods bow their heads

And cry for the man below them,

That he may see brighter days,

That he may pass through the darkness of these days,

And see the lights of the newer days.

Shaking his head, he wrinkles his nose.

"God...have I gotten depressing or is it just me?"

He takes out a sheet of plain white paper, drawing out some things in the margin before actually writing out musical score for this song. It's kind of sad, kind of depressing. Repeating the theme of the lyrics; think "Letting the Cables Sleep" more unplugged.

Flipping through the pages of the composition notebook in front of him, he shakes his head. Most of these are sad and unwanted; hardly any can be considered songs worth anything more then a lighter and file 13. He reads through a few though, trying to put something to them. Sony wanted them for a record deal, they were getting radio play, and people were actually showing up the concerts and knew who they were....he needed new material.

Take me for I am nothing

Use my body for your bidding.

Break me, for I feel no pain

I am nothing but a vessel for the soul.

Where I stand is where I shall remain

Time comes together for those that wait.

Watch, wait, stand and be.

Time is coming to an end

Be prepared for what comes when it may

Let me die for I am nothing

A soul for wings to fly

A soul for when the body dies

The wings may permit me to

Short...sweet....very strange. As were most of the things he wrote, that's just what he was like. There was one other, these two seemed to be more poetry then song, though isn't that what songs are? Poems put to music?

Let it rain,

And drench the sun-scorched planet.

Let me cry,

Release me from this fear.

Take me,

For I am nothing.

These faceless beings,

They torture my soul with their lies.

I am the giver, the taker and the creator.

I live and die to no avail

And yet I will die again and rise from the ashes of my former self.

Take me.

Bind me.

Kill me.

Rereading again, he just closes it, sitting back and watching the rain in the window of the diner from his booth.

"Whoever said life is sweet never lived through my eyes...."