Sonday blogs: What’s the point in singing silly love songs

What’s the point in singing silly love songs.

You think you’re in love, boy, but you don’t really know what love is. You think love is a joke but there ain’t too much to laugh at. Love is just a cautionary, momentary, reactionary lie. Love is a drug. Love is addiction. Some love is a pill and some love is a candy cane – it tastes so sweet but leaves you feeling sick with pain. Love is overrated (in this goddamn world). It’s just an illusion to me.

There was a girl, thought she knew what her life was going to do. Then she goes and falls in love and throws it all away. Could you believe the same old story. This is the hardest story that I’ve ever told.

I’m sitting across from you and dreaming of the things I do. I say nothing but stare at you. Looks that books take pages to tell, the whole world in your pocket. Everybody’s smiling at you everywhere you go. Like you’ve got that secret that everybody else wants to know.

You come a little closer, I rest upon your shoulder. You’re calling me baby. In thirty years we’ll still be happy. Don’t know why but all your words sound just like a melody. From the pieces that I’ve heard I could build a symphony. With your love I can breath underwater. You are the sun and the light, you are the freedom I fight. You are the origin of love.

But everything changes in the blink of an eye. To avoid conversation you’re ignoring me. You shout with nothing to say and fight til you get your way. It hurts but what can I do, I won’t turn into a kid too. I look at you, you look at me, we bite each other. It’s getting harder and harder to bear. Now enough is enough. I’m not a trick up your sleeve, I’m not a part of your show. What you’re here for, I don’t need it.

Someone needs to say it first, even if the words may hurt. Guess what lover, I’m leaving. You’re making me more ordinary in every possible way. It’s nothing like the life we wanted. You better move on cause I’m ready for more than this. Save me from your theories. There won’t be me and you. No hope no love no glory. No happy ending.

Blame it on me. Make it my fault, win the game. Point the finger, place the blame. Blame it on your mother, blame it on your father. Blame it on the girls, blame it on the boys. Blame it on the weather. Blame it on you. You could have children and a wife – a perfect little life – but you blow it on a bottle of wine.

You got a dangerous obsession. Now I’m in need of some protection, that was never my intention. Used to love me now you hate me. Now I’m lost and I’m screaming for help. I feel like trash. Why don’t you like me? Why don’t you like yourself?

Another day, another wake up. Sorrow is so peculiar. It comes in a day, then it’ll never leave you. You take a pill, wonder if it will never fix you. I’m busy in the blissful unaware. I don’t care if I ever talk to you again.

This is just my interpretation. What’s the point in singing silly love songs.

(Just a fictional story I made for fun. Words borrowed from Mika.)