"You just call out my name
And you know, wherever I am,
I’ll come runnin’ to see you again.
Winter, Spring, Summer or Fall -
All you gotta do is call,
And I’ll be there, yes I will.
You got a friend."
-‘You Got A Friend’ - Carole King.
My favourite performance is the Donny Hathaway version. :)
Tina Dico - Sacre Coeur
I could go home to my love
And live the life I’ve always wanted
Or I could go on running off
Into the night, lonely and haunted
And the strange thing is
I don’t know which I prefer
As I sit here and watch the sun set on Sacre Coeur
Without the weight of your hangers-on, you’re free to rise / Weightless, you can make your own way to the skies.
Bloodsport.
Some lyrics I wrote, about three years ago, detailing my experience / battle with self-harm. I’ve always been very honest with my lyrics, and in this song especially so; these words are still pretty important to me. A lot of other songs, I wrote with a bravado I never genuinely felt, whereas these verses were just pure vulnerability.
When you first found me, I was strung-out; half-bled to death,
Now I’m shaking at this feeling that I wish we’d never met.
I won’t look back, ‘cos I’ve come so far,
And all the shit that we get dragged through, it just makes us who we are.
I’m sick of letting myself down again,
But what am I without you? Just a part of what I’ve been.
And I hear you’re treating them the very same -
Putting fragile girls in hospital beds.But through it all, I have learned my strength,
And I will grow.As if I’d ever let you win; it never ends.
We burn it all and start again. I’ve made mistakes.All this time, I wish that I was seeing stars
‘Cos I’m facedown in the gutter and I can only see these scars.
My blood will speak in place of words that I can’t say;
I’d give anything - anything - to stand up and walk away.
But action never comes as easily as words
And we all know that what is in our past can never be reversed.
So here is to the future and everything that will go wrong -
It’s how we pick ourselves back up that counts; keeps us moving on.I turned the water red with sickness; I’m letting myself down.
I turn the water red with sickness, and beg that I will drown.
One must keep one’s chin up, through everything; things are seldom as hard as they seem. X
This Isn’t Young Love.
You can’t build love on barstools,
You won’t find it in hotel rooms.
It’s not hidden in strange towns,
Or buried under last rounds.
winter in your arms
Misery loves company
And what she wants, she gets.
So cast your sins all over me -
I swear you won’t forget.
the thrill is gone.
I long to blame you for ruining
So many of my favourite songs,
And how I can no longer stand to hear them
Now that you’re gone.
But in truth, it’s only my own fault,
And I take each miserable lyric
With a grain of salt.
I have a new record collection
And I listen with enthusiasm.
This is the arm of an awesome boy who got my lyrics tattooed, and it was his first ink. I often forget about this, but it floors me every time it crosses my mind. Somebody related enough to the way I felt when writing that song - enough to mark himself with the sentiment forever.
In case anybody is ever uncertain, this is what I write songs for.
good morning heartache.
yet again, i awake
in a bed of snowflakes,
each one colder than the last.
because when you’re not here,
it’s like my soul aches
and every heartbeat is an earthquake,
gently shattering the past.
is it hyperbolic to suggest that
i can’t live without you,
when i don’t even know who you are?
