Autumn Tears And Winter Leaves
Can You Carry Responsibility On That Broken Heart?
"What about this?" Pasco clawed at a random shirt from the mountain he had built upon his bed and shook it for inspection.
Lawen raised her eyes patiently from her notepad, resting her elbow on her knee as she did.
"Pasco, baby. You're such a woman." she teased, a slow smile spreading across her lips.
"Am not!" Pasco protested, twirling back to the mirror.
Pressing the shirt against himself, he grimaced and threw it with disdain upon the other mountain he was carving on the floor.
"I just want to look my best for when we meet the Gods of Rock." Thoughtfully, he paused. "I'm so gonna screw Billie Joe like crazy when I meet him. Right there and then. In the audition room."
Chuckling, Lawen placed her notepad on the floor.
"I'm sure that will go down well. Resorting to prostitution to get on the bill."
"Darling," Pasco stated in an exaggerated feminine voice. "I'd resort to anything for a piece of his mighty fine arse."
"What's going on?" Torben asked, stumbling the door open to slip into the room. Glancing around at the clothes spread-eagle on the floor, he frowned. "Did Pasco explode and sew himself back together or something?"
Lawen smiled. "No, he's just fantasising about Billie Joe. Again."
"Pasco mate, that's not natural. That's like the twelfth time...today." Torben grinned.
"Well, look at him, man. How can you resist that?" Pasco argued.
"Easy." Torben replied, sliding down beside Lawen.
"Yeah, Torben isn't perverted like you." Lawen smirked.
"I am NOT perverted!" Pasco disputed. Bounding his eyes across to Conall who was tip-toeing across the room as if it was a minefield, Pasco whined, "Am I perverted, Conall?"
"Yes." Conall replied, without pausing to contemplate.
Open-mouthed, Pasco spun away from the group as both Lawen and Torben laughed at Conall's spontaneous reply.
"Screw you all." he muttered.
"Awww," Lawen soothed, vaulting herself up from the floor. "I'm sorry, Pasco baby. Are we all being mean?"
"Yeah." Pasco pouted.
Cradling Pasco in her arms, Lawen smoothed his hair, causing a smile to rise across his face.
"I'm sorry. We love you really."
"Yeah, you'd better." Pasco replied. Pulling away from Lawen, he glanced over his avalanche of clothes once again.
Picking up a leather thong, he dangled it in front of Lawen's gaze. "What about this?"
"Pasco! No!" Lawen responded, slapping it from his hand.
Midnight is one of the most beautiful times of the day. Lawen was just realising this. She curled against the window, watching the lethargic sigh from night to day roll past her, leaving no trace of its memory. Another day gone. Another bundle of memories to live for. Her notepad pressed its nose affectionately against her stomach as Lawen conceived, birthed and placed aside her thoughts. Her inspiration was burning potholes in the night sky as her random, patchwork phases struck her body into peace.
"What you doing?" a whispered voice questionned through the darkness.
Awkwardly twisting her body, Lawen met Conall's gaze and smiled faintly, knowing he wouldn't see it through the fog of shadows. "Writing. Dreaming." she replied. Flicking her body off the windowsill, she crossed the room to meet Conall half-way on the sofa. "What you doing up?" she whispered.
"Couldn't sleep." Conall answered, his voice drugged with hoarse tiredness. Raising his dragging head, he grinned. "Too excited," he added.
Allowing his eyes to droop to the sofa, he noticed Lawen's notepad, clutched passionately in her arms.
"What are you writing?"
Trickling her gaze to the page, Lawen pressed her lips together to crush the doubt forming upon them.
"Some new lyrics. I figured we may as well have some material, you know? Just in case."
"Can I see?" Conall asked, cautiously.
Running her tongue across her bottom lip in thought, Lawen scoured the page sceptically. Raising her eyes to meet Conall's eagerly tender ones, she sighed into submission.
"They're not all that good." she apologised, allowing Conall to view her deepest thoughts.
Autumn Tears and Winter Leaves.
The empty pause between the gasp
and go of bitter nothings and candied somethings
that could never be anything but nul and void.
Eternity's etched on a dove's wing and
it took off to fly into the sunrise.
It turned to ash under pressure and
inspired the autumn clouds to tears.
Is this all you ever were?
A mannequin pretence.
A vacant presence.
The sad thing about my bitter pill
love song is that I'm not angry at all.
And I'll remember you through the autumn tears,
all the memories you pooled at my door with deceit,
even though I'll smile and pretend I don't.
Because we're all dead leaves writhing
in the winds of mid-winter, desperate
to find our way back home to summer.
And I can't purge myself of these cliches
on my heart under nights of sobbing moonlight.
I miss you. I need you.
They say it all so well.
A downtown schoolgirl entwines paths
with a stranger. We all know where
it leads after that. I scorched my affection
on our crumpled mattress. You sealed it with lust.
Should I really be surprise that it ended this way?
Because all I ever was became a crisp, autumn
memory beneath your pride. And I'll bottle
the lazy tears as medicine for the spring-time.
A nicotine addict to pain.
I'll remember you through the winter storms,
even if I pretend that I don't,
desperate to make it to summer.
And all these words mean nothing at all.
Splotches of ink on my diary.
I'm trying to shape meanings, trying
to make you understand when
you're the shadow at the back of
my mind, the memory in a suit and tie,
the smoke-scented demon beneath my skin.
And they crumble beneath your footsteps.
These autumn leaves never last long.
The weight of the wind over-rides
their insistence in fogged tears.
And I'm clutching at air, trying
to capture memories. I understand
when they're already the winter ash
at my feet. But I'll always remember
every little, jaded detail through the
autumn tears. Even if I say I don't.
In muted silence, Conall raised his eyes to Lawen who sat twisting her bangle around her wrist. Sensing his eyes on her, Lawen sighed. "I told you they weren't any good."
"No," Conall burst in, breathlessly.
"They're beautiful. Too beautiful." Placing the notepad behind him, Conall stretched forward to grasp Lawen's hand.
"We don't have to play that song."
Tearing her determined eyes from her bangle, Lawen shook her head. "Yes, we do. You don't understand. It's always the most heart-piercing songs that are the most beautiful."
"But..."
Pressing her finger against Conall's lips, Lawen smiled faintly. "Please, Conall. I have to remember to forget."
"Conall! Lawen! Get your fat arses in here right now! I'm in the mood to practise, damnit, and you know that only happens once in an eternity!" Pasco drummed impatiently on his drumkit, rocking back and forth on his stool in the basement.
Chuckling, Lawen finished sweeping her hair into a ponytail and took her notepad from the windowsill. This was Our Teenage Kicks last rehearsal before the big competition. Despite the nervous adrenaline casting her body into palpitations, Lawen had never felt more prepared. After emotional devastation, she had managed to gather enough strength to plunge into her one chance for happiness. She was determined enough to believe Torben's idea that their success was written on the horizon.
As she clasped her hand around the door handle, Lawen felt an equal clutch upon her arm. Turning back, she met Conall's concerned expression. "You know, we still don't have to do this." he told her.
Fixing Conall with her most defined smile, Lawen let her hand droop from the door handle to cup his face. "You may not have to. But I do." she informed him, leaving a pecked kiss on his nose. "OK, let's get this damn thing started!" she announced as she stepped into the room with an inflamed fevour.
"That's what I'm talking about!" Pasco exclaimed, hurling his drum-stick clad hands into the air.
Laughing, Lawen positioned herself in front of the microphone and twisted her head to look over her shoulder. At the door, Conall hesitated between enthusiasm and sympathy. "Are you coming in?" Lawen questionned gently. "We can't rock without you, darling."
Trailing his gaze over Lawen's determination, Conall sighed into submission and ducked into the room. He just about captured the light of a smile on Lawen's lips as he dangled his guitar across his shoulder and gave it an introductory strum. Even when Pasco counted the band in with the sharp rhythmic strikes of his drumsticks, Conall still wasn't sure it was a good idea. As he played, he watched Lawen's posture with tender scrutiny. Not once did it flinch under emotional pressure and he almost convinced himself that he was over-reacting, that he was chalking up Lawen's failure to cope before he'd even allowed her to prove her strength.
Meanwhile, at the centre of the band, Lawen felt Conall's concern drive a spear of expectation into her. Closing her eyes, she grappled at her last strands of strength to maintain the moulded stance that she had shaped for herself. Beneath her skin, beneath the determination, beneath the words that she sung with vague emptiness, she cried bitter lemon tears.
Lawen raised her eyes patiently from her notepad, resting her elbow on her knee as she did.
"Pasco, baby. You're such a woman." she teased, a slow smile spreading across her lips.
"Am not!" Pasco protested, twirling back to the mirror.
Pressing the shirt against himself, he grimaced and threw it with disdain upon the other mountain he was carving on the floor.
"I just want to look my best for when we meet the Gods of Rock." Thoughtfully, he paused. "I'm so gonna screw Billie Joe like crazy when I meet him. Right there and then. In the audition room."
Chuckling, Lawen placed her notepad on the floor.
"I'm sure that will go down well. Resorting to prostitution to get on the bill."
"Darling," Pasco stated in an exaggerated feminine voice. "I'd resort to anything for a piece of his mighty fine arse."
"What's going on?" Torben asked, stumbling the door open to slip into the room. Glancing around at the clothes spread-eagle on the floor, he frowned. "Did Pasco explode and sew himself back together or something?"
Lawen smiled. "No, he's just fantasising about Billie Joe. Again."
"Pasco mate, that's not natural. That's like the twelfth time...today." Torben grinned.
"Well, look at him, man. How can you resist that?" Pasco argued.
"Easy." Torben replied, sliding down beside Lawen.
"Yeah, Torben isn't perverted like you." Lawen smirked.
"I am NOT perverted!" Pasco disputed. Bounding his eyes across to Conall who was tip-toeing across the room as if it was a minefield, Pasco whined, "Am I perverted, Conall?"
"Yes." Conall replied, without pausing to contemplate.
Open-mouthed, Pasco spun away from the group as both Lawen and Torben laughed at Conall's spontaneous reply.
"Screw you all." he muttered.
"Awww," Lawen soothed, vaulting herself up from the floor. "I'm sorry, Pasco baby. Are we all being mean?"
"Yeah." Pasco pouted.
Cradling Pasco in her arms, Lawen smoothed his hair, causing a smile to rise across his face.
"I'm sorry. We love you really."
"Yeah, you'd better." Pasco replied. Pulling away from Lawen, he glanced over his avalanche of clothes once again.
Picking up a leather thong, he dangled it in front of Lawen's gaze. "What about this?"
"Pasco! No!" Lawen responded, slapping it from his hand.
Midnight is one of the most beautiful times of the day. Lawen was just realising this. She curled against the window, watching the lethargic sigh from night to day roll past her, leaving no trace of its memory. Another day gone. Another bundle of memories to live for. Her notepad pressed its nose affectionately against her stomach as Lawen conceived, birthed and placed aside her thoughts. Her inspiration was burning potholes in the night sky as her random, patchwork phases struck her body into peace.
"What you doing?" a whispered voice questionned through the darkness.
Awkwardly twisting her body, Lawen met Conall's gaze and smiled faintly, knowing he wouldn't see it through the fog of shadows. "Writing. Dreaming." she replied. Flicking her body off the windowsill, she crossed the room to meet Conall half-way on the sofa. "What you doing up?" she whispered.
"Couldn't sleep." Conall answered, his voice drugged with hoarse tiredness. Raising his dragging head, he grinned. "Too excited," he added.
Allowing his eyes to droop to the sofa, he noticed Lawen's notepad, clutched passionately in her arms.
"What are you writing?"
Trickling her gaze to the page, Lawen pressed her lips together to crush the doubt forming upon them.
"Some new lyrics. I figured we may as well have some material, you know? Just in case."
"Can I see?" Conall asked, cautiously.
Running her tongue across her bottom lip in thought, Lawen scoured the page sceptically. Raising her eyes to meet Conall's eagerly tender ones, she sighed into submission.
"They're not all that good." she apologised, allowing Conall to view her deepest thoughts.
Autumn Tears and Winter Leaves.
The empty pause between the gasp
and go of bitter nothings and candied somethings
that could never be anything but nul and void.
Eternity's etched on a dove's wing and
it took off to fly into the sunrise.
It turned to ash under pressure and
inspired the autumn clouds to tears.
Is this all you ever were?
A mannequin pretence.
A vacant presence.
The sad thing about my bitter pill
love song is that I'm not angry at all.
And I'll remember you through the autumn tears,
all the memories you pooled at my door with deceit,
even though I'll smile and pretend I don't.
Because we're all dead leaves writhing
in the winds of mid-winter, desperate
to find our way back home to summer.
And I can't purge myself of these cliches
on my heart under nights of sobbing moonlight.
I miss you. I need you.
They say it all so well.
A downtown schoolgirl entwines paths
with a stranger. We all know where
it leads after that. I scorched my affection
on our crumpled mattress. You sealed it with lust.
Should I really be surprise that it ended this way?
Because all I ever was became a crisp, autumn
memory beneath your pride. And I'll bottle
the lazy tears as medicine for the spring-time.
A nicotine addict to pain.
I'll remember you through the winter storms,
even if I pretend that I don't,
desperate to make it to summer.
And all these words mean nothing at all.
Splotches of ink on my diary.
I'm trying to shape meanings, trying
to make you understand when
you're the shadow at the back of
my mind, the memory in a suit and tie,
the smoke-scented demon beneath my skin.
And they crumble beneath your footsteps.
These autumn leaves never last long.
The weight of the wind over-rides
their insistence in fogged tears.
And I'm clutching at air, trying
to capture memories. I understand
when they're already the winter ash
at my feet. But I'll always remember
every little, jaded detail through the
autumn tears. Even if I say I don't.
In muted silence, Conall raised his eyes to Lawen who sat twisting her bangle around her wrist. Sensing his eyes on her, Lawen sighed. "I told you they weren't any good."
"No," Conall burst in, breathlessly.
"They're beautiful. Too beautiful." Placing the notepad behind him, Conall stretched forward to grasp Lawen's hand.
"We don't have to play that song."
Tearing her determined eyes from her bangle, Lawen shook her head. "Yes, we do. You don't understand. It's always the most heart-piercing songs that are the most beautiful."
"But..."
Pressing her finger against Conall's lips, Lawen smiled faintly. "Please, Conall. I have to remember to forget."
"Conall! Lawen! Get your fat arses in here right now! I'm in the mood to practise, damnit, and you know that only happens once in an eternity!" Pasco drummed impatiently on his drumkit, rocking back and forth on his stool in the basement.
Chuckling, Lawen finished sweeping her hair into a ponytail and took her notepad from the windowsill. This was Our Teenage Kicks last rehearsal before the big competition. Despite the nervous adrenaline casting her body into palpitations, Lawen had never felt more prepared. After emotional devastation, she had managed to gather enough strength to plunge into her one chance for happiness. She was determined enough to believe Torben's idea that their success was written on the horizon.
As she clasped her hand around the door handle, Lawen felt an equal clutch upon her arm. Turning back, she met Conall's concerned expression. "You know, we still don't have to do this." he told her.
Fixing Conall with her most defined smile, Lawen let her hand droop from the door handle to cup his face. "You may not have to. But I do." she informed him, leaving a pecked kiss on his nose. "OK, let's get this damn thing started!" she announced as she stepped into the room with an inflamed fevour.
"That's what I'm talking about!" Pasco exclaimed, hurling his drum-stick clad hands into the air.
Laughing, Lawen positioned herself in front of the microphone and twisted her head to look over her shoulder. At the door, Conall hesitated between enthusiasm and sympathy. "Are you coming in?" Lawen questionned gently. "We can't rock without you, darling."
Trailing his gaze over Lawen's determination, Conall sighed into submission and ducked into the room. He just about captured the light of a smile on Lawen's lips as he dangled his guitar across his shoulder and gave it an introductory strum. Even when Pasco counted the band in with the sharp rhythmic strikes of his drumsticks, Conall still wasn't sure it was a good idea. As he played, he watched Lawen's posture with tender scrutiny. Not once did it flinch under emotional pressure and he almost convinced himself that he was over-reacting, that he was chalking up Lawen's failure to cope before he'd even allowed her to prove her strength.
Meanwhile, at the centre of the band, Lawen felt Conall's concern drive a spear of expectation into her. Closing her eyes, she grappled at her last strands of strength to maintain the moulded stance that she had shaped for herself. Beneath her skin, beneath the determination, beneath the words that she sung with vague emptiness, she cried bitter lemon tears.