the voice of reason weblog
ABOUT ME

Name: Corey
Age: 19
Location: New Bern, N.C.
Occupation: Student
Vocation: Journalism
Preoccupation: False hope
NOTABLE BLOGS
  • Kristin's blog
  • Jamie's blog
  • Writers group blog
  • Heide's blog
  • Misty's Web site
  • Misty's blog
  • Candice's blog
  • Kenny's blog
  • William's Web site
  • LINKS
  • E-mail Corey
  • My online portfolio
  • New Bern Sun Journal
  • Dave Barry
  • Poynter Institute
  • Copter Game
  • NY Times search tool
  • Media Blitzkrieg
  • QUOTABLE

    "God only knows what is to happen. I see nothing impossible in that supposition. And I see things wonderfully contrived sometimes to make us happy. Where could they find such objects as in America for the exercise of their enchanting art? Especially the lady, who paints landscapes so inimirably. She wants only subjects worthy of immortality to render her pencil immortal. " --Thomas Jefferson, A Dialogue Between The Head and The Heart
    CREDITS
    design (c) maystar designs
    powered by blogger
    image (c) maystar designs
    Site Meter
    Friday, July 04, 2003


    SONG LYRIC OF THE DAY

    OK, so this blog lied. But in honor of Independence Day, this blog thought it fitting to post the lyrics to Brave Saint Saturn's "Fireworks," Dennis Culp's first venture into songwriting, from the group's debut album, "So Far From Home." Deduce what you will, the lyrics can mean many different things. Enjoy!

    One time on the Fourth of July,
    I went out to see the fireworks fly.
    From a hill I could see all the rockets as they flew
    from the town below me.
    Bombs bursting in the air,
    The crowd cheered with every flare,
    In the distance the clouds were cracking and flashing,
    Mountains shaking with every explosion.
    I remembered thinking that night,
    As I looked into the sky,
    More than pyrotechnics meets the eye.

    Chorus
    And the fireworks fly,
    And the fireworks fall,
    But I have seen the best of all.
    And it's true,
    After every charge is through,
    I can still hear the thunder call.

    Glitter bombs turn pasty pale,
    Under five-mile electric trails,
    Soaring skies and lofty Sierras,
    Never looked quite as good in the pictures.
    Neon flickers in the haze,
    Billboards set to catch our gaze,
    So much noise,
    Nothing holds our attention,
    It has all been done before.
    So let the rockets sparkle and fade,
    Let the streamers fill the sky,
    More than pyrotechnics meets the eye

    posted at 5:24 PM

    Comments: Post a Comment
    This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?