While driving home for work yesterday evening, a twist of melody and some words popped into my brain, so I shut down my radio and started humming along like the crazy songwriter I am without any regard whatsoever to who sees me singing in my car. So. By the time I got home, I had the first stanza locked down pretty tight. I pulled out a notebook and knocked out the rest in a fraction of the time it took me to drive home in the first place. Thus, a new song was born. Once I replace the batteries in my guitar tuner--Princess, my Gibson Cascade, is decidedly out of tune and my ear is not quite what it used to be for matching the right pitch (thanks, Army)--I will work on the music portion. Having recently decided to ignore all of the sappy, annoying, broken-hearted emo songs I wrote in college entirely and revamp my sound with my present musical soul, this is the first song in that series. Recordings--eventually--to follow. For now, enjoy the words! The title, "Cano Vitae," means "I sing of life" in Latin. You know how much I love naming my songs in that wonderful, immortal language.
I’ve been listening to the silence,
trying to figure out what it says,
but the words are getting harder to decipher.
Because silence speaks with a voice
that few have ever heard,
and I am no exception to this either.
I’ve been looking at the wind,
trying to see it clearly,
but all that I can see is where it’s been.
I swear that it’s mocking me,
casually floating through the trees,
all the while keeping its face hidden.
I’ve been dancing in the rain,
trying to feel the sunshine,
but I guess Apollo’s sleeping in the clouds.
Everywhere I turn, the world
is turning faster, and the music
always seems to be too loud.
I’ve been running through the woods,
trying not to lose your trail,
but as for prey, you’ve proven yourself clever.
Perhaps you are faster than I;
only one of us will eat tonight,
but the song of life is never truly over.
The song of life is never truly over.