Ideas . . .

. . . are plenty . . .


. . . That is ideas for songs/compositions/pieces of music . . .

. . . but these days I feel as though I cannot find/make enough time to properly develop them. The reasons are many, varied and boring.  But they do say we MAKE time for those things for which we really want to make time. . .

. . . This idea has been floating around my consciousness for a few months now and continues to evolve although it may finally be taking some form now . . .

(of course titles, like the ideas themselves, continue to evolve also_


A Thing for Spring
evolving it's way into a song

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Neat and Clean. . .

. . . we vowed to make our separation. Never mean or condescending recitation. I fought so long and so hard with these feelings inside of me. And you were the last one that I thought again I would ever see. My fortress, strong and tall, has taken its first hit and its beginning to fall. Now the walls come tumbling down; the pieces crashing to the ground; just like the pieces of my broken heart. Now the walls come tumbling down and when they do they make one deafening sound. Just like your footsteps on the floor. Just like the slamming of the door behind you.

Peachy keen was not the color of the picture. Love just seemed to slip away, no more the fixture. Coming to grips with reality wasn't an easy affair. And seeing your face once again made me wonder if you still care. This barricade of mine is crumbling from the front and just as well from behind. And the walls come tumbling down; the pieces crashing to the ground; just like the pieces of my broken heart. Now the walls come tumbling down and when they do they make one deafening sound. Just like your footsteps on the floor. Just like the slamming of the door behind you.

Just like your footsteps on the floor. Just like the slamming of the door behind you.

©1994 Raymond M. Jozwiak
TUMBLING DOWN




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