I'm still here.
I have a question to the world,
Not an answer to be heard.
All a moment that's held in your arms.
And what do you think you'd ever say?
I won't listen anyway…
You don't know me,
And I'll never be what you want me to be.
And what do you think you'd understand?
I'm a boy, not a man.
You can take me and throw me away.
And how can you learn what's never shown?
Yeah, you stand here on your own.
They don't know me 'cause I'm not here.
And I want a moment to be real,
Wanna touch things I don't feel,
Wanna hold on and feel I belong.
And how can the world want me to change,
They're the ones that stay the same.
They don't know me,
'Cause I'm not here.
And you see the things they never see
All you wanted, I could be
Now you know me, and I'm not afraid
And I wanna tell you who I am
Can you help me be a man?
They can break me
As long as I know who I am.
And I want a moment to be real,
Wanna touch things I don't feel,
Wanna hold on and feel I belong.
And how can the world want me to change,
They're the ones that stay the same.
They can’t see me,
But I’m still here.
They can't tell me who to be,
'Cause I’m not what they see.
And the world is still sleeping,
While I keep on dreaming for me.
And their words are just whispers
And lies that I’ll never believe.
And I want a moment to be real,
Wanna touch things I don't feel,
Wanna hold on and feel I belong.
And how can they say I never change
They’re the ones that stay the same.
I'm the one now,
'Cause I’m still here.
I'm the one,
'Cause I’m still here.
I'm still here.
I'm still here.
I'm still here.
john rzeznik. corner of clark and kent music.
maybe he got it right. but i still wonder what it would have been like if he wasn't dead and gone. and if you had seen, as a passerby, what he was like before, you would have thought that the struggle would have breached empyrean proportions. but no, he just fizzled out and drifted away, like a soul leaving the withered husk of a corpse strandled on the ground. and then the time and circumstance was ripe; i had to take over.
but i could be him while he's gone. those every unuttered word that consumed the spacious seconds that we meet, those every twitch of the synapses that signified the unseen thoughts and desires of us, and those paroxysms of actions that told the language of the body was transparent to the viewers on the outside, looking in. even, if they are looking in at all.
i never existed until the very crucial seconds of recognition. it was a conscious act of understanding that pervaded very slowly, like an osmosis of foriegn materials that seeked to drive out the home owners. i was the virus, the disease that killed him. he knew, and i knew, that his time was over. the king is dead. long live the king.
but as hollow as this existence is, i still miss the prescence of him. i still remember how he was like. i've occupied his territory; it still bears marks and memories of his previous activities and actions. i cannot say i hate him thoroughly; after all, he was the sentinel that kept vigil before me. he was i, and i, was him. i cannot fail to recognise the similarities that we shared; but as the new order, i only seek to deaden his influence that would serve to only crumble my plans as such into ashes and dust. the swedish, has definitly got it right. long live the king. the king is dead.