songwriting – Shaunanagins

I wrote a song.

This is a first, really. I have written songs before, but never on my own. This one just kinda…happened. It was initially a poem, but left alone with my keyboard and a head full of things I’m thankful for, I decided expand it and put it to music. Be forgiving, of course, as I really just picked up this instrument a good few weeks ago and recorded the video after I finished songwriting/tour guiding all day. My voice was unbelievably tired.

But what it comes down to are the words. Yes, someday I hope to work up enough talent to bring the music part up to par (or just get of my jam buddies to fill in the blanks!). I like that there’s music, but it isn’t meant to be anything more than simple. I’m hoping that if people follow the words they will know how it is meant to be taken, and smile in spite of my tired vocal chords. Because, hey, imperfection is okay. Music is okay. Words can be very, very okay.

(Also, God can be so poetically compared to a washing machine that even my Minister digs the lyrics…at least, that’s what his “like” on Facebook says. Take that, conventionality!)

You called me on the phone
And I cried across the line
Cuz the wounds that you were nursing
They sound a lot like mine

And there’s a map in my head
It’s got a marker in your place
I’ve walked that same long road
And I’ve seen those same long days

Let’s run away
Or just talk for 5 hours
Exchange the words “It’s gonna be alright.”

Cuz these bruises give us colour, baby
Our scars keep us in line
We get our strength from fist fighting
With the hands of time
All the bittersweetness
All the shots we miss
They tie us to each other
And our bruises give us colour

So your heart spilled on your sleeve
Well there’s nothing wrong with that
I’ve heard that with a little change
God can be a laundromat

And if winter turns to summer
And your heart still feels the burn
Let that fire keep you moving
Cuz there’s still a lot to learn

Life takes turns
So we better learn to dance
If we fall along the way, it’s a story

I’ve got a million cliches
They could tide you over for days
But I know 2 am is still a bitch

So maybe can just cry together
Or shoot the shit till it feels better
And stop treating our pain like it’s a glitch

I know you know I know just how it is.

How these bruises give us colour
And our scars keep us in line
And we get our strength from fist fighting
With the hands of time
All the bittersweetness
All the shots we miss
All the prayers we say
All the gifts of today
They tie us to each other
Our bruises give us colour