While not written from personal experience, the tragic loss and seemingly endless rush of memories becomes contagious. Unfortunately, we feel the duty to carry the burden of pain. We collect our own sadness and take it with us wherever we go. Sometimes, it is more painful to let go.
MIDIMike
While not written from personal experience, the tragic loss and seemingly endless rush of memories becomes contagious. Unfortunately, we feel the duty to carry the burden of pain. We collect our own sadness and take it with us wherever we go. Sometimes, it is more painful to let go.
MIDIMike
I offered you all I am
As you demanded the bigger half
I tried to keep them together, but cried until I could not laugh.
We own no jewels or treasures
Beyond the memories we made.
Loving life and nature’s pleasures, but soon even those will fade.
Brilliant colors turn to gray
Precious moments gone.
It all grows now in anger, tormenting everyday.
Hard, still to believe
Please and a simple thank you
Became words you could not say, another way to deceive.
I’ve spent half my life
Fixing my mistakes,
And half of it living yours.
Evidently I don’t know
What it really takes
To heal the open sores.
Brilliant colors turn to gray
Precious moments gone.
Now they grow in anger
Tormenting everyday.
What I have left
Is half of nothing.
Neither yours nor mine.
Years of hard work
And nights in disagreement
Didn’t help the bottom line.
MIDIMike
Maybe this is a simple celebration of diversity. In all things. I could never understand why the Christian faithful spends so much energy hating the very things their perfect god created. My parents just didn’t let us grow up like that. We never saw differences a threat, but as life from a different point of view and perspective.
MIDIMike
Another glimpse of lost love. Or love lost. The one that got away. A constant dilemma: hold them too close and risk pushing them away. Not holding them lets them slip away before you know it. When you were together you knew what tortures you now; you can’t go back.
There is no one else and never will be.
MIDIMike
Shifting to a better job and position I moved to Indiana to supervise late shift at a metal plating and plastic molding company. I moved first and rented a small place for a few months to make sure it was going to work before bringing my first wife out.
Small town.
One stop sign.
No one is in a rush. Worse than ‘island time’. I am so used to doing 10 things at once and find myself in the middle of nowhere doing nothing!
Farmers grow summer crops and often rotate to a winter wheat. Some farmers plant potatoes late in the season. Out there I felt like a Late Potato.
No rush.
I’ve been told I am so lucky
Doesn’t seem that way
From my point of view.
My history with women;
Lost faith in mankind.
Just to name two.
The weight
The mass
The volume
The energy
Whatever you want to call it.
All forces applied can delight or destroy.
The heat
The bond
The tension
The gravity
You take one, you take all of it.
Love’s my precious gift or Nothing but a Toy.
When honesty becomes a plaything
Nothing but a Toy
It’s hard to trust in anything.
Nothing but a Toy
When honesty becomes a plaything
An old worn-out Toy
It’s hard to trust in anything.
I’m your little Toy.
I’ve been told that I am So Lucky
Doesn’t seem that way
From my point of view.
My history with women
And faith in mankind
Just to name one or two.
This song has its roots in my observation of childhood development. In hind sight, this should have been my first ‘red flag’ while dating my current wife. Her daughter could not play games the way other kids do. She has to win. But not by actually winning. When she loses she will act as the winner and tell her version to anyone that will listen. Repeating a lie over and over almost makes it true.
She would ask me to play the game where you guess which hand she is holding the trinket or toy. Each time I would fail to guess the correct hand she would giggle and ask me to play again. In case you don’t have kids or didn’t guess it yet, she was not holding anything in either hand. That became the inspiration for the second verse.
My wife and I have been separated for a couple of years now. I failed to see the same behavioral traits exhibited by her daughter. My wife was just older and was able to hide the truth better. But even in 1987 the chorus was focused on why my wife behaved the way she did.
Had I known back then all those games and stories and false memories were intentional and part of her ‘great plan’, I would have cut my losses decades ago…… So much wasted time.
MIDIMike
Clearly that is what this was, an idea, but I love the first verse in that it sets up the rest of the mood for the song. I also have a lot of driving references in my songs over the years. Easy analogies, and I am an analogy king. The line about putting away your toys is another question that pops up in my themes about musical equipment and my home studio. I am not sure how long I will continue to write and record original songs and local bands. I am not sure when but I cannot stop now so I have not written my last song yet.
Back with the morbid themes. A how to guide when the end of your life is here. A lesson from the wise and experienced. Dyeing is the easiest part. Once you are gone though, your story can be told by others. So be kind!
MidiMike 