Don't change the title. It's already good. I love your lyrics man. I could imagine what your trying to tell here.
Once he was a little boy, future on a shelf
Felt the air between his fingers and named it for himself
Now a worry stained man in a blackened briefcase
No longer a bright child, just another muted face
With problems and tired eyes just like the other ghosts
Who walk these tumbled streets
Sunken eyes skim surfaces, an absent smile begins
Defeat written on his lips, no stubble on his chin
And all through his magnificent metamorphism
He’s failed to prove to his paper sack kingdom
That truth, love and beauty can be found in a bottle
When the last dark drop has run
And he hums to himself as he struts down the streets
Knowing he’s right, ensnared in dirty sheets
Let’s pity him and laugh at his imitation life
And he’ll go home to boiled eggs and imitation life
Sitting on the steps, a child, playing sticks and stones
Omen of the future, an aching in his bones
He stops to stare, to weep, to yearn, blood pouring from his eyes
“Oh child of life, of light, of faith, won’t you sing me some sweet lies
To cure this heart that ails me, a spoon of flavoured hope,”
But the child makes no reply
He’s done everything he said he’d do and nothing’s come of it
His pressed black suit hangs like a funeral wrapped in plastic
Peck on the cheek, doubt in his gut, he turns and walks away
Headache pounds against his skull, the synthetic seats sway
The eyes in the rear-view mirror smile quite suddenly
He sighs once more and he’s gone
[ any other title suggestions? ]
Don't change the title. It's already good. I love your lyrics man. I could imagine what your trying to tell here.
I love it. Period. I was going to say something about the repetition of "imitation life," but then you said that was a typo. FYI: You can edit your own posts. You didn't have to make a second one.
Anyway, good job.
Well, the music sounds okay, but I don't get the paragrah 1. It sounds kinda confusing.
Wow. The first thing I'd like to say is that I'm stunned this song hasn't gotten any reviews! That's a shame, seeing as I think this song is brilliant (lyrically, anyhow). You portrayed the empty man's world so well--and you even rhymed it, which is a hard enough task without sounding trite. I especially liked the bridge: "Let’s pity him and laugh at his imitation life / And he’ll go home to boiled eggs and imitation wife". That really caught me off guard, made me think.
I think the title is pretty good as is. It caught my eye, but didn't say much about the actual topic of the poem. This line really stood out to me: "His pressed black suit hangs like a funeral wrapped in plastic" though--moreso than the one having to do with 'Paper Sack Kingdom'. If I had my way, I'd rename it 'Plastic Wrapped Funeral' or something as a play off that clever line. Of course, that's only my opinion.
Excellent job. ^_^ Too bad I couldn't hear the music with your song.
third paragraph, bridge-type-thing is supposed to go
And he hums to himself as he struts down the streets
Knowing he’s right, ensnared in dirty sheets
Let’s pity him and laugh at his imitation life
And he’ll go home to boiled eggs and imitation wife
damn typos.
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