Tag: music


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indiefreshh:

Your heart is a muscle the size of your fist, 

So keep on loving, keep on fighting, 

And hold on, hold on, hold on for your life


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birdjams:

My life is chaos and all of my friends are gone, but I’ve never been the type to keep in touch with anyone. 


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itinerantnothing:

the ones who said: “onward, comrades!” to our death,
with ruin on their
breath,
the weight of centuries on their tongues,
loading failed
manifestos in their guns.

as if defeat, repeated often, could someday
mean we had won.


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theodorebvndy:

i regret a million things and that’s only what i haven’t forgot
but the past was a mine field and right now is a prison break
i hope we make it alive
when who we are doesn’t stop where the law begins
then we’ll storm their courthouses to survive
so i won’t but we shall overcome someday
i can’t do it alone but we shall be free someday
i don’t know how to live but i’m sick of learning how to die


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bloodrelations-andbricks:

I’m growing old in rooms full of kids with unruly hair cuts, taking what comfort we can in the fact that every empire’s days are numbered…man. But I don’t think that I can count that high. I should have paid better attention in school or something, because I feel like there’s something that I don’t know and if I could just jam it into my skull, I could stand to live somehow. But I don’t know. The fact is I’m 2.7 decades into a growing ambivalence. I could count on no hands how many fucks I’m giving. Or is it a million? Are “god” and “void” equivalent? Are we making total destroy, or just making a living? And I know that Rome wasn’t burnt in a day, but it couldn’t have been more than a week. And I know that the children of barbarians become the new tax collectors and priests. So I don’t know. I suppose we’ve been rolling since the world was round, and time makes dust of what we can’t tear down. And I suppose dead bodies make soil of the ground. But what about what we do now? I’m growing old in rooms full of kids with unruly hair cuts, taking what comfort we can in the fact that every empire’s days are numbered…man. But I don’t think that I can count that high. 


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holdsteady:

The Magnetic Fields | I’m Sorry I Love You

Do not listen to my song
Don’t remember it, don’t sing along
Let’s pretend it’s a work of art
Let’s pretend it’s not my heart


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bumpsmusic:

Dance with me my old friend 

once before we go 

Let’s pretend this song won’t end 

and we never have to go home 

and we’ll dance among the chandeliers 

And nothing matters when we’re dancing 

In tat or tatters you’re entrancing 

Be we in Paris or in Lansing 

nothing matters when we’re dancing