Picture 2
Aleea Davidson’s Picture Choice: Two
Title: Music Man
(A/N - Wither will return next time around.)
.....
You say you're beat down tired, right straight through your bones. Lost in the rhythm of a life gone wrong, chasing a high that burned you out. Wanna lay your weary body in the long cool grass and hold something pure. Something just like her.
Your soul is a wasteland, weeds choking everything fresh and new. Your garden is a desolate space, parched for something clean and right. Think you can drink her on down and find yourself a little peace.
You're searching for release.
You hear her sing a cappella, and you itch to find her melody. Stroke it out on the chords of your six-string, let her sing-song take you away. Wanna tangle up in her lyrics and kiss, rub, taste every word, shiny new.
Make her croon sweet for you.
But she marches to the beat of a different drummer, death metal playing in her head. You see her sway to your homespun groove, thinking you hear angels sing. It's only hellfire packaged sweet; that girl's burning up inside.
Got her own kinda healing to find.
So pack it up, pack it in. Nothing here for you.
Pack it up, close it tight. Take that higher road.
Pack it up, pack it in. Move on music man.
Go on, take the long way home, again.
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Aleea lives in her imagination most of the time. It's an interesting place to be... Occasionally she can be coaxed out to chat on Twitter, though she finds it akin to torture to stick to that absurd 140 character limit. (@Aleeab4u)
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