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Crowe · 12-30-2005, 08:18 AM

My music, in sound, is like a Postal Service meets Bright Eyes- require a bit of time change, so while the syllables and stuff don't seem to line up quite right, they do in the actual songs. I like to tell stories in my lyrics and this one is called...

"Emergency, Doctor"

Emergency! First door on the right, straight on til morning....
Jump down! Seven flights of stairs, wet floor warning.

Emergency! Doctor cried, throat throttling fifth gear, wailing night.
Paddles Stat! Machines from beyond the curtains, white ceiling light.

There is a boy. Covered in life. There is a boy. Going under the knife.
Surgery, sense memory recall, the fall from the seesaw, scream!

Eight years. A decade not seen. Missing his teens. Instruments sheen.
Parents sob, behind closed doors, horrors of these echoes, scored.

Emergency! Resilience failing, heartbeat trailing, Doctor administer incision!
Nurses yell! Morphine dream, boys eyes open, white turning to cold cream.

Emergency! Seven thousand steps to the lowest depths of sanity. Climb.
The cut comes in stop-motion time. An inch of a fraction, centimeter life.

Breathing ceased! Chest is still! Doctor feeling the warm skin chill.
No! Not now! Doctor shouts and clasps the hands of a dying child.

Give me a minute, he pleads, and finishes his deeds, sewing up skin.
The crowds waits a moment, then a second and a moment again.

(we hear a cough and sputter and then a cheer)

12-30-2005, 08:18 AM	#1 (permalink)
Crowe Music Addict Join Date: Dec 2005 Posts: 699	Crowe's Songwriting Collection My music, in sound, is like a Postal Service meets Bright Eyes- require a bit of time change, so while the syllables and stuff don't seem to line up quite right, they do in the actual songs. I like to tell stories in my lyrics and this one is called... "Emergency, Doctor" Emergency! First door on the right, straight on til morning.... Jump down! Seven flights of stairs, wet floor warning. Emergency! Doctor cried, throat throttling fifth gear, wailing night. Paddles Stat! Machines from beyond the curtains, white ceiling light. There is a boy. Covered in life. There is a boy. Going under the knife. Surgery, sense memory recall, the fall from the seesaw, scream! Eight years. A decade not seen. Missing his teens. Instruments sheen. Parents sob, behind closed doors, horrors of these echoes, scored. Emergency! Resilience failing, heartbeat trailing, Doctor administer incision! Nurses yell! Morphine dream, boys eyes open, white turning to cold cream. Emergency! Seven thousand steps to the lowest depths of sanity. Climb. The cut comes in stop-motion time. An inch of a fraction, centimeter life. Breathing ceased! Chest is still! Doctor feeling the warm skin chill. No! Not now! Doctor shouts and clasps the hands of a dying child. Give me a minute, he pleads, and finishes his deeds, sewing up skin. The crowds waits a moment, then a second and a moment again. (we hear a cough and sputter and then a cheer)