here’s my demo of the song A Kingdom from a Spark for the episode The Cooler. the lyrics are meant to be from an ancient story about the origin of the fire kingdom.
and the lyrics
there was a time before,
when we were still afraid of the dark.
then came the first spark.
a fiery birth,
It totally rocked.
sentinels crashing down out of the blue,
creating a kingdom of red hue
for me and you.
these sleeping gods of tremendous power,
can cause a new kingdom to flower.
so burn as bright as the sun,
my fiery one.
when light starts to dim awaken within,
the slumbering ones.
My hypothesis is that in like 10 years gen z is gonna have a big cult boom the way the boomers did in the 70s
Found this reddit post. This kinda makes me feel better. And it’s something I think about sometimes because I always feel like regardless of how hard I work on something I don’t get anywhere.
“Why is it," he said, one time, at the subway entrance, "I feel I've known you so many years?" "Because I like you," she said, "and I don't want anything from you.”
If you do something with your whole heart and it’s a mistake, you can live with that.
Florence Welch (via thespiritualslut)
writingsforwinter:
Once, I died my hair to change colors with the seasons
and finally settled on red out of the mistaken belief
that it would lend me all the courage fire lends to wood.
Beneath the wave caps I thought I loved you the same way the sea loves
the coral that tattoos it to the ocean floor.
Now, I remember my legs, my phantom limb syndrome,
how I used to run so fast along the shore even the seagulls couldn’t catch me.
Those were the days when my head was still above water,
when I never once thought of shedding the scales on my wrists
and ending it all.
One day I’ll go back to those legs, to coming up out of the deep
and tasting the salty air again
without wishing to drown.
One day seaweed will stop reminding me of a noose.
One day I will love you with lungs full of fresh air.
There are still so many seashells on the shore left to collect,
and I’m finally going to find them all.
me holding a gun to a mushroom: tell me the name of god you fungal piece of shit
mushroom: can you feel your heart burning? can you feel the struggle within? the fear within me is beyond anything your soul can make. you cannot kill me in a way that matters
me cocking the gun, tears streaming down my face: I’M NOT FUCKING SCARED OF YOU