"Follow the Motions"

Chorus:
Yeah you got the notion.
Follow the motions!
When you’re sad your tears can fill an ocean,
And when you happy the future can shine like a beacon.
Yeah you got the passion,
And she’s got the poison!
When it all’s well you feel your senses awaken,
When it all’s bad you can feel your soul slowly weaken.

Verse 1:
It was a - late night on a Saturday evening,
And all night he was stuck on this feeling,
Of hate and loss, for the risk of love,
Means that sometimes you gotta pay the cost.
But for now, he’s at the bar, looking sad and lost,
And realizes that it was all because,
He dwells on the emotional impression,
And with no detachment, always resolves to depression.
(He) can’t seem to ask himself the right questions,
Cause the last girl he saw always left him guessing,
Always playing silly games and testing,
His fidelity, but eventually got him questioning his sanity.
He wonders if his old loves might have been simple flings,
As the scabs of his past start to be revealing,
Of other things, like even deeper scars,
That leaves him bewildered staring up at the stars.
His mind goes far, - when he plays his guitar.
But in this bar, he’ll just drink his sorrows away,
And let them find him again tomorrow, like everyday.
All the more ready to jab at the wounds,
Of those past loves that were ready to bloom,
And instead you had to witness their impending doom.
Yo – like you slow dancing in a burning room.

Chorus

Verse 2:
Snap back to his table with an empty glass.
Can’t even seem to remember what drink he had last,
He asks the barkeep: “how the hell d’you get a pretty las?
One that’s got class, and a damn fine ass?”
The bartender nods back,
Tells him: “Good luck with that!”
And If you don’t mind I’ve got some other tables to be at.
And at that, he’s alone again.
‘bout half past ten.
He’d write some sad ass poetry but couldn’t hold a pen.
Falling asleep, he’s too drunk.
Before a microphone suddenly wakes him up with a thump.
The lights grow dim,
Caught between whiskey and gin,
He hears whispers of a show that’s about to begin.
He looks up to the stage,
To where the noise was made,
Just to see a pretty woman just about his age.
Her notes shimmer and amaze,
Avid listeners – stuck in her phase.
His eyes glued to her face.
The music progressing,
Her tunes gently confessing,
Scars of love, mistakes and lessons
Honest and vulnerable, her voice keeps trembling,
Lost in melodies, people start remembering,
Yeah - Old passions, old loves.
Got the whole crowd wishing to the stars above.
As he falls asleep on the bar –
Lulled by the voice of a glimmering star,
( SILENCE )
Awoken by a tap on the shoulder he turns the find,
This beautiful angel standing behind him, asking,
If he could spare a light to a damsel in distress.
He fumbles for his matches but keeps staring at her dress.
See’s himself in the mirror, says ‘sorry I look a mess’
She throws him a cheeky smile; you can guess the rest y’all.
Cause we lonely people we need someone to hold,
No matter where you live, you know that some nights get cold.
Many spent at bars trying to forget but only growing old.
We all babbling on, fuelled by the alcohol.
Making good attempts at love but we keep on failing.
Woman you love, that you end up hating.
Emotions and passions that we’re constantly faking.
Just for a little bit of booty shaking.
And so they probably make a good try,
Until their conversations run dry,
And instead of laughing, you let the girl cry.
As your stuck there, alone again, asking yourself why.
Why d’you ever even bother and try?
Go back to your buddies drinking whiskey and rhy,
Singing “THIS WILL BE THE DAY THAT I DIE”
To which they answer:
“Chill out man and go outside!”