life

These lyrics, this “poem” has spo­ken to me for a VERY long time, still speaks to me today, and will likely speak to/for me for the rest of my life. I absolutely LONG for the abil­ity to express myself like this, not for cap­i­tal gain, but in a way that other peo­ple resemble/relate to beyond my years, to immor­tal­ize myself, to “tran­scend the char­ac­tero­log­i­cal lie about real­ity” through art… maybe that’s what I resent, that I’m not artis­tic? Or maybe that I don’t seem to fit any­where at all?

“Sum­mer time and the wind is blow­ing,
Out­side in lower Chelsea,
And I don’t know
What I’m doing in this city,
The sun is always in my eyes,
It crashes through the win­dows,
And I’m sleep­ing on the couch,
When I came to visit you,
That’s when I knew,
That I could never have you,
I knew that before you did,
Still I’m the one whose stu­pid,
And there’s this burn­ing,
Like there’s always been,
I’ve never been so alone,
And I’ve never been so alive,
Visions of you on a motor­cy­cle drive by,
The Cig­a­rette ash flies in your eyes,
And you don’t mind,
And you smile,
And say the world doesn’t fit with you.
I don’t believe you,
You’re so serene,
Careen­ing through the uni­verse,
Your axis on a tilt,
Guilt­less and free,
I hope you take a piece of me with you,
And there’s things I’d like to do that, You don’t believe in,
I would like to build some­thing,
but you never see it hap­pen,
And there’s this burn­ing,
Like there’s always been,
I’ve never been so alone,
And I, I’ve never been so alive,
And there’s this burn­ing,
There is this burn­ing,
Where’s the soul, I want to know,
New York City is evil,
The sur­face is every­thing,
But I could never do that,
Some­one would see through that,
And this is the last time,
We’ll be friends again,
and I’ll get over you and you’ll won­der,
Who I am,
And there’s this burn­ing,
just like there’s always been,
I’ve never been so alone,
And I’ve never been so alive,
I go home to the coast,
It starts to rain,
I pad­dle out,
On the water,
Alone,
Taste the salt and taste the pain,
I’m not think­ing of you again,
Sum­mer dies and swells rise,
The sun goes down in my eyes,
See this rolling wave,
Darkly com­ing to take me,
Home,
And I never been so alone,
And I’ve never been so alive”

– Third Eye Blind “Motor­cy­cle Drive BY”