Looking back

In nine days I turn twenty-two, and with a little luck I'll be moving out of my parent's house a couple of weeks later. In preparation for the big move I've been working my way through all the crap in my room, ruthlessly cutting the wheat (which goes into boxes) from the chaff (which goes into the bin). I've already filled two bags full of loose papers: guitar tabs, printed articles, newspapers and plain crap.

I found a couple of old note books, copy books and pads. Among them, I found a copy book from my third-year of secondary school. It's labelled "Warhammer 40,000". This is not going to be good.

Along with pages after pages of crap about that lame-ass game, including several pages of me talking to myself in written form, there's a couple of lyrics.

When I was 14, I fancied myself as something of a songwriter. I was wrong. Here's one such "song" (capitalisation preserved):

Life goes on,
Where did the magic go;
Faced with a decision,
And I Gotta say no.

Don't want to go,
Don't want to say,
That I don't trust you no more,
Have to live my life my way.

I've gone Bezerk,
I'm called a jerk;
But they're gone to the other side,
They're gone to the dark side.

Excuse me, I think I'm going to be sick.