Song picture
Bulletproof
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a really old song that i'll tweak and get right someday
acoustic emo indierock michelle cat power michelle rogers mychelle rogers mychelle
gloomy, pretty, unrefined, valium-speed chick rock
my first reviewer called it "a foundation for a dark, shadowy rock opera that someone would listen to while drinking a bottle of wine and contemplating jumping off a bridge". she wouldn't tell me whether or not they'd jump.
Song Info
Genre
Acoustic • Acoustic General
Charts
#15,197 today Peak #231
#4,737 in subgenre Peak #75
Author
Michelle Rogers
Rights
Michelle Rogers
Uploaded
November 26, 2005
Track Files
MP3
MP3 4.9 MB • 128 kbps • 5:22
Lyrics
There’s nothing for you in my shadow. It just outlines what I have become. They say it’s made of colors but not if I have scorned the sun. I’ve boarded up the tiny guiding light. Complete darkness sears the dreams off my eyes. I’m old because I’ve overcome lovers and for this I am believed to be strong. They’re lined like buildings. Unlit, they’re only fit to be the ruins they’ve become. I’m sorry my heart is so stiff; I can’t thaw it out. Arthritic restlessness has built these pressure points of doubt and my rheumatoid loins have been drafted and shot down but my deepest darkest secret is I still know where love hides out. I have visions of our lives in tangles. I’m afraid of my own superheroes. They have sharpened all my better angles and fired me straight into the hearts of angels. I’ll hire someone to do my crying for me. It will sit on my shoulder and it will weep for humanity because the grave expression I use when I’m aching lets me be full of holes and still stops the bleeding. I burn with the bluest of blue honesty for you. My blood is a fountain of youth and it’s good and it’s true. My million dollar smile is just a medium to lie through. If I bleach out all my colors I can fake self-renewal. I build little fires to keep myself warm as summer is sent away confused and forlorn to an asylum where they drug things that have burned since they were born among the planets we’ll build homes on when we’re too ugly in the one we’ve worn. Instead of destroying weapons we just nail boards against our souls which are just rooms in which we cower looking through bulletproof windows. We’re all so used to hate that we’re terrified of love. Beware, baby. Some call this wisdom… sitting in ourselves with no lights on. I’m down to a few warm days, a few dim flames, and the stars that are really too dull to keep counting but they lit up all my fuck-ups. They’ve stopped calling to say they love me. Before I lie and condescend your youth and all its beauty I will write to say that I felt it too but I have to keep moving.
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