Colin Weaver - Demons Into Art
MY WRITER’S BLOCK IS FINALLY GONE! At least I hope it’s gone for a while. Anyway, here’s one I just finished. I wrote the choruses tonight, but everything else (lyric wise) I stole from a poem I wrote over a year ago. I broke out the fiddle for this one, though I’m all out of rosin and I haven’t played in months (and I’ve only really been playing for a couple months anyway) so I apologize for that. And I have a cold. Enough with the excuses. I feel I should clarify (just for clarity’s sake) that I don’t really classify myself as a christian (as these lyrics might lead you to believe). The meaning of the song is different to me, and I’d explain how, and I’d explain my religious and spiritual beliefs, but it’s 5:30 AM and I don’t have the energy so I’ll save it for another post. Anyway, here are the lyrics:
well we learn our fears
from malignant friends
every time I cross the divide
I count my sins
and late at night
I scribble them down
who says Billings is a God-fearing town?
on the AM
we hear crackled voices
preaching new books
so many Blessed choices
but there’s only one
that tarnishes vices
it’s that Big Black Bible and it doesn’t entice us
am I supposed to be some sort of machine
am I supposed to be clean
am I supposed to live with a golden heart
or die young turning all my demons into art
when I sit with friends
I smoke without a filter
insult the believers
their heads are off kilter
but deep in my lungs
I breath Jesus’ air
I read that Big Black Bible and I comb my hair
am I supposed to be some sort of machine
am I supposed to be clean
am I supposed to live with a golden heart
or die young turning all my demons into art
I’ll die young turning all my demons into art…
