What Do You Hear?
Vertigo
The rooms spins as I sit there, the vibrations of the music coming to life as I huddle myself in the middle of my room, waiting for it to come. I'm here to prove it wrong, as much as the writing defies me.
I wait for the repeated tapping of the drums until I hear everything else join as if in a perfect cycle of never ending heaven.
I wait, blocking out any other piece of music until I know that it's coming.
Holding my breath, I hope that I will still be able to catch it, even with the music pounding through the walls and waking up most of the neighborhood. I don't care; I'm on a mission.
Closing my eyes, I listen carefully at it comes within my hearing range but passes as a blur. I curse the World for it's innability to let me concentrate.
Getting to my feet, I rush over to the booming stereo and repeat the song again, taking my place back in the middle of the room with my hood pulled up over my head. Thin strands of hair stick to my face as I hold my knees up to my chest; waiting.
The familiar tap of the drums sends me into a frenzy as I promise myself to not lose focus, it's coming soon, I know it.
I can feel myself shut everything else out; the deafening screams of my neighbors outside goes ignored. I'm on a mission.
I pay attention to every detail in it; the bass hiding under the thick fog of guitar and drums, the simple chorus seems to reel me in each time. It loses me, I blame the chorus for it everytime.
My eyes widen as it comes at full force, ears open and listening to the thick voice singing to me in my sleep deprived haze.
And I caught it, the rest of the world can live under that one false impression, but I got it.
"I'm in a place called Vertigo."
I wait for the repeated tapping of the drums until I hear everything else join as if in a perfect cycle of never ending heaven.
I wait, blocking out any other piece of music until I know that it's coming.
Holding my breath, I hope that I will still be able to catch it, even with the music pounding through the walls and waking up most of the neighborhood. I don't care; I'm on a mission.
Closing my eyes, I listen carefully at it comes within my hearing range but passes as a blur. I curse the World for it's innability to let me concentrate.
Getting to my feet, I rush over to the booming stereo and repeat the song again, taking my place back in the middle of the room with my hood pulled up over my head. Thin strands of hair stick to my face as I hold my knees up to my chest; waiting.
The familiar tap of the drums sends me into a frenzy as I promise myself to not lose focus, it's coming soon, I know it.
I can feel myself shut everything else out; the deafening screams of my neighbors outside goes ignored. I'm on a mission.
I pay attention to every detail in it; the bass hiding under the thick fog of guitar and drums, the simple chorus seems to reel me in each time. It loses me, I blame the chorus for it everytime.
My eyes widen as it comes at full force, ears open and listening to the thick voice singing to me in my sleep deprived haze.
And I caught it, the rest of the world can live under that one false impression, but I got it.
"I'm in a place called Vertigo."