Imagining is the hard part.

Oh it’s certain, don’ ya see,

Trickin’, fuckin’, it’s all the scene.

Monsters lurk,

where creatures dwell.

Left you blind,

no one can tell!

Seek not wisdom,

go find your friends.

They’ll be with you,

until the end.

Sweat seeping, from every pore,

stench and weakness, come out for more.

Hope, pray, need not do,

for it’s the creatures that live in you.

Hope, not suffer,

forget your dreams,

seek not wisdom,

for you wont be seen.

They all lurk,

as does a geist,

you can run,

but you’ll pay the price,

Feel the death, cold and bleak,

Free-will go underneath.

Strong men fight and women cry,

but all that happens is people die.

and death comes, slicing chill air;

for when monsters roam, no one ‘s there.

Pouring down on hallow ground,

pouring out my soul.

It’s the memories that shatter,

not that anything matters,

It’s I who pays the toll.

Forgotten, splintered,

pouring out my pain,

in forgotten wisps of old.

The prayers we hear,

and the things we fear,

like love, lust and hope.

It’s truth we seek,

but despair we find,

All without peace,

a single mind.

It’s hopeless, foolish,

yet continue we go.

The wounds fester,

and mothers woe.

For it’s children that die,

with snap of their spine!

Blood dripping, flesh ripping,

like the love lost long ago.

Forgotten and shattered,

unbroken in pattern.

It’s the prayers we hear,

for the things we fear,

like love, lust, and hope.

In the echos that follow,

it’s the monster that swallows.

The creep of the vine,

that entangles the spine,

the loss of my will,

‘nd the loss of my hope.

Solemn and lonely,

we must continue this journey,

All must pay this toll.

Forgotten and splintered

pouring out my insides,

in forgotten wisps of old.

In the prayers we say,

in the tolls we pay,

There’s nothin’ left too bold.

The saxophone was invented by a Belgian manufacturer, Adolphe Sax, and exhibited to the world for the first time at the 1841 Brussels exhibition. The saxophone is a relatively young instrument. Antoine-Joseph Sax, who later took the name Adolphe, was born in Dinant, Belgium.

• Reference:  http://inventors.about.com/od/sstartinventions/a/saxophone.htm

• Tom Scholz first started writing music in 1969 while he was attending MIT, where he wrote an instrumental, titled “Foreplay”. While attending MIT, Scholz joined the band “Freehold,” where he met guitarist Barry Goudreau and drummer Jim Masdea, who would later become members of Boston. Vocalist Brad Delp was added to the collective in 1970. After graduating with a master’s degree in mechanical engineering, Scholz worked for Polaroid, where he used his salary to build a recording studio in his basement, and to finance demo tapes recorded in professional recording studios.
• Reference: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boston_(band)

Conceive a beast

that lurks beneath

cunning and hungry,

searching for meat.

Creeping around

below my house,

feeing on those

who’ll never be found.

I capture men, women,

girls and boys,

keep them shelved like little toys.

‘nd when the beast eats,

You’ll hear him chew.

Crunching on someone,

Someone like you.

Oh! My beast has his fun

all while never seeing the sun.

He hunts at night,

When all are asleep,

Slips men from their beds-

With nary a peep.

With crackle of spine

As they’re torn in two,

‘nd blood all around,

Spilled anew!

After his meal

he goes to bed

waiting for evening,

when he’ll be fed.

The heaps of meat,

dance with me,

to the beat of the day.

The night sliced,

with many ‘a’ fight,

With options tried and true!

The gold all mine

and with plenty of time,

I eat under the moon!

Curse you all,

Curse my food!

Curse you wretched moon.

I consume the deathly chill,

I grow like hungry blight.

Oh, sweet let me eat,

I’m only hungry for you.

You were so happy with me at first,

Just the sight of me brought out the glee,

But as time goes on, and on it goes

Down cold rivers your body flows.

Descent into the dead of winter,

Where the sun can’t shine.

Descend down the cold whirlpool,

where only fear resides.

Whats the point of living at all,

In the cool rivers my body follows.

Following you, down the water holes,

With the fear about, I attempt to find,

The girl I knew,

The girl that was mine.

Down into the darkness she descends,

Drawn to the fear, and the misery within,

Drawn without hope, without reason, without me…

She finds nothing, but cold castles of ice, sheer rock, and flight.

I hope, nay pray! For the girl I seek,

I know if I find her, I will likely break.

For it is my fault she’s come to run away,

And it is my fault she curses the world every day.

She feels all I wish to do is fight,

She feels I hate her with all my might,

She’s wrong of course; I love her still,

My proof? I’m following her cold and ill,

To places I despise; through fear,

And the whirlpool of lies.

While I descend the cool rivers depths,

With cool cool winter all around.

I think of summer,

And what I was surprised to find.

I found a lovely girl,

A girl I loved almost at first sight,

A girl that I could stand,

A girl that caused me to sway,

A girl I loved that took me away.

Her ascension was swift,

And I found her loveliness grew,

So we planted a tree,

From the love both of us knew.

We loved that tree,

And it began to prosper,

With the roots receiving,

All our love.

The tree grew strong,

Surviving several storms,

And off the joy of our love,

It grew some more!

Until one day, my lovely girl,

Decided to disappear behind a veil.

Try as I might to save my lady,

The door was shut, and the door was steady.

Yet even then, I loved her still,

But my attempts to free her were to no avail.

She screamed it was all my fault,

That the tree was disgusting,

Wrought with knots and decaying leaves.

Filled with worms, beetles, and held no seeds.

She told me I had stolen the joy,

The joy the tree needed to grow.

It was all so coy.

For all she did was blame it on me.

Try as I might to raise her spirits,

She hid behind all her “merits”

I attempted to find any way around,

But of course she hid what could not be found.

In time however, I learned the truth,

She felt the tree had grown too soon.

Fear had griped her, and she embrassed.

Scared for her life, and scared of my face.

She descended into the river, deep.

Into the whirlpool, swept away.

I jumped on in to find her there,

In hopes her joy, could brighten my day.

Twas the blaze of winters fawning,

that brought about the snakes yawning.

With subtle breeze and over cast skies,

the snake closed it’s weary eyes.

Sleeping until sweet summers glow,

when they’ll rise again from the rabbit hole!

To prey again on tender hare,

To feast again, without a care!

Oh sweet, sweet snake of mine.

I wish you well,

when spring does rise.