Pretty Lies

it was three in the morning. almost full moon. the world restless already, somehow. i couldn't sleep. and staring at the ceiling a sentence came up, and then another one and another one. when the song was almost finished i wrote them down. it was almost four. still no sleep. the notebook with the scribbled words on the night table. a cloud half in front of the moon now. i got up. switched on the computer, plugged in the mic. put it up high. and recorded voice, guitar and the tapping of the foot in one take. then added some harmonies and badly played organ. it was four thirty now. i shut the computer down and went back to bed. the moon was totally gone now. more clouds. and i fell asleep.

i never thought of playing this song to anyone. i even wrote a new song, using some of the lyrics, giving new meanings to some of these painful words. i called it 'early morning light' and put many instruments on there. a cheerful melody. like camouflage. a song to cover another one up. rawness can be so embarassing and out of tune. so the tiny song, the only true one, was ready to be forgotten. until a good friend heard it and convinced me it should be heard. so i listen. what are good friends for?
this is 'pretty lies'. i guess you can run but you cannot hide.