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greggb

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About greggb

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    http://www.greggboethin.com

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  • Gender
    Male
  • Location
    John Day, Oregon
  • Interests
    Music

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  • Lyricist, Composer or Both?
    Both
  1. I Wanted You to Know...

    I want you to know something. I want you to know that you're beautiful, because you are. It's been a long time since I met someone I might describe as beautiful. But I would, without any doubt, describe you as beautiful. "Beautiful" isn't a word I toss around. Beauty is a rare thing. But you're the possessor of such a rare thing. You're beautiful, and I want you to know that. Because you deserve to know that. You're beautiful on a bad day. You're beautiful on the worst of possible days. You're beautiful in all my days. And I just wanted you to know.
  2. About You (original song)

    My first in over two months...hope you're all doing well. About You Words and Music by Gregg Boethin Copyright 2017, All Rights Reserved Got some poignant words just burning inside me, and a melody that’s needing to be, there’s a song coming out and I think it will be about you. It’s nine in the night and the sky is still blue, in my mind there I am on a wobbly stool, ten feet away, head down thinking about you. But you don’t ever listen to my songs, if you did you’d know that I was talking about you all along. There’s a powerful force in and out of my chest, in the place of my heart, that’d be by my best guest. Stronger and stronger, the longer I think about you. Down a road so clearly going your way, still I’d take a seat by you and hand-surf down the freeway. There are poignant words now there on the paper, and a melody with passionate flavor. This song is now done, and I wrote it all about you.
  3. Hey all. With the possibility of nuclear war drawing near once again, I thought I'd post my song "Smoke Swirls", which is about nuclear war, and make it available for anyone to cover/record etc. Feel free to make any mods to it. It would be kind of cool if it'd you let me know if you do end up using it. Thanks! Gregg SMOKE SWIRLS Words and Music by Gregg Boethin Copyright 2011, All Rights Reserved Smoke swirls and scattered light, the sun will soon be out of sight, and it's not coming back again. We'll see our brightest day, until the final flashes fade, then the darkness will begin. Smoke swirls and the terrors they tell, the letters that spell our painful and permanent end. Smoke swirls, now the horsemen are here, the prophecy's clear, we won't see the daylight again. With no fear for their own, and every comfort from their throwns, they send those armies on their way. They hideout high on hills, and by their orders blood is spilled, at a price the world will pay. Smoke swirls and the terrors they tell, the letters that spell our painful and permanent end. Smoke swirls, now the horsemen are here, the prophecy's clear, we won't see the daylight again. Smoke swirls and the terrors they tell, the letters that spell our painful and permanent end. Smoke swirls, now the horsemen are here, the prophecy's clear, we won't see the daylight, we won't see the daylight, we won't see the daylight again.
  4. Life is a Dream

    Life is a dream, it really is. Life is a dream, it's your dream. Life is your dream. Treat life as if it's your dream. Live life as if it's your dream. Because life is a dream, it's your dream. by Gregg Boethin.
  5. Simulated Reality

    I hope it's okay for me to share some philosophical thoughts here... I want you to imagine something. I want you to imagine that immediately after waking up tomorrow morning, a supernatural being appears to you. Imagine that there's a flash of light, then a cloud of smoke, followed by the appearance of this unearthly creature. Your response would be one of awe, and more than likely fear. Because this isn't something that's ever happened to you before. And as far as you know, things like this don't happen. But I want you to imagine that this is actually happening to you, right now. Imagine that the being looks at you, and says, "I've come to share with you one essential truth". It pauses, then after a few seconds continues, saying, "You are living in a simulation." And then, before you can ask it any questions, it fades away. You're now left questioning your experience, and of course the first question you have is, was it real? Because you've heard stories about other people hallucinating, and even though it's never happened to you, you know that you're just as capable of hallucinating as anyone else. But I want you to imagine a kind of knowing, or intuition you have, that everything that just happened was real. Nobody else would believe you if you told them, but you were there, and you know what you saw and heard, and you know that what you saw and heard was 100% real. And now you're left with the knowledge that you're living in a simulation, though you're alone in that knowledge. And now you must live out the rest of your days aware of the fact that you exist in a virtual world. And how does that make you feel? Imagine, once again, knowing you're living a simulation, surrounded by an entire world full of people who don't. One of your feelings would probably be that of loneliness, because the knowledge you have would make you very different from other people. Your knowledge would completely change your perspective on life. It would alter your beliefs and values, and all the things that are important to you. But how else would this knowledge affect you? How would finding out that your existence is synthetic, or virtual, change the way you live your life? What I'm going to show you is that in answering this question--in running this thought experiment--we can learn a lot about our lives and our existences here, in a world that is a simulation, for practical purposes...or maybe even for real. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Before I get into the actual thought experiment, which is going to be the examination of life in simulated reality, I want to talk about some of the modern theories and ideas regarding "simulated reality". The Movie "The Matrix" comes to mind when most people think of simulated reality. Indeed The Matrix paints a very thought-provoking picture of what life might be like in a simulated reality. But philosophers have been alluding to the possibility of simulated realities for millenia now, going even further back than Socrates. Before the age of computers we liked to wonder if life was a dream, and how we can be sure it's not. The short answer is that there's no way of knowing, one good argument being the fact that we're not aware we're dreaming, when we actually are. In the same way we're fooled by our dream states we could be fooled by our non-dream state, which perhaps is another dream state we haven't woken up from yet? What modern computers have done to this age-old question is provide a very plausible means with which our world could be simulated. The idea that life is a dream seems pretty absurd, or fantastical at best. But most of us have seen computer simulations. Granted, no modern computer simulation comes close in complexity to the universe we live in, but that doesn't mean anything. Computer technology is rapidly increasing. Quantum computers are in existence now (though quantum computing is still in its infancy). But when you consider the many wonders human ingenuity has been responsible for, it's not at all inconceivable that computers may be able to facilitate a simulation as complex as the world we live in. We should further not make the mistake of assuming the sort of "master world" in which our world might be created in, in a computer simulation, is anything like the simulation in which we exist. This would be analogous to ants inside of an ant-farm looking out and assuming the entire world outside is made of dirt. We can't even begin to imagine what wonders might exist in the so-called "master world". Is it possible we're living in a simulation? Yes, it's possible. It's 100% possible. Some scientists will even tell you that it's likely. But when it comes down to it, there's no way of knowing. If we're living in a simulation, everything pertaining to our existence would be created by that simulation. Any evidence proving we live in a simulation would have to be simulated, and therefore not admissible in court. Though my purpose isn't to discuss the plausibility, or likelihood of simulated reality. Simulated reality has been philosophically and scientifically proven to be a possibility. This has to be accepted. However, to suggest that we live in a simulated reality, or don't live in a simulated reality, is nothing more than speculation. Though, there is a fair amount of evidence suggesting we're living in a simulation. So what if we are actually living in a simulation? How should that change the way we live our lives? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ I want to take you back to the original thought experiment, where you've just learned that you're living inside of a simulation. You now have the burden of carrying this knowledge as you continue your life in a simulated world, surrounded by people oblivious to the fact they are also simulated. So, you open the simulated door to your simulated bedroom, and make your way down the simulated hallway to the simulated kitchen, where you pour yourself a bowl of simulated cereal. You sink your simulated spoon into your simulated cereal and scoop a bite into your simulated mouth. And you think... You compare your experience to that of yesterday morning's, before you knew you were living in a simulation. You realize that aside from the disturbing thoughts in your head, nothing's different. Your reality hasn't changed. Nothing is any less real, as far as your senses are concerned. And that makes you wonder, what is real? What does the word "real" mean? You try to imagine what life would be like in a "real" world. You wonder what would be different about life in a real world. And you don't come up with any definite answers. But still, you're very bothered by the fact that you're living in a simulation. Sure, everything about it seems real, as far as you're concerned. But then you're not real, so why should your opinion matter? So why are you so bothered by the fact that you're part of a simulation? Because you find nothing cool about the notion of living in a simulation. It makes you feel very unspecial. After all, you're nothing more than 1s and 0s, or some futuristic equivalent to a collection of bits. How does the current image of yourself, as a collection of bits, compare to the image you had of yourself yesterday? For that matter, what was the image you had of yourself yesterday? How did you see yourself yesterday, before you learned you were part of a simulation? Think really hard about the way you saw yourself yesterday. Now if you're religious, you might have seen yourself as a child of God, or creation of some other deity. Your having learned that you're merely part of a simulation might have brought your world crashing down, if you choose to believe that now you're nothing more than computer data. Or, you might consider the possibility that whichever deity you believed in exists within the simulation, thus preventing your religious crisis. If you take the more atheist approach to life, you saw yourself as little more than a collection of molecules yesterday. Today you're seeing yourself as a collection of bits. That shouldn't be too difficult of a transition to make, especially if you choose to look at atoms, and sub-atomic particles as bits of information. Though, one question we haven't addressed yet is the purpose of the simulation. In the movie "The Matrix" the simulation was created by machines, who were committing a crime against the human race even more vile than slavery. The simulation was in place to exploit humans in the worst way possible, and we have a problem with that. In reality there are many reasons an intelligent species might want to create a simulation, and the majority of those aren't so sinister. Bear in mind, any theories as to the motives for creating a simulation, like the one we might be living in, are pure speculation. One theory suggests we're part of a scientific experiment, where the creators observe life throughout the universe, to better understand life in general. Another interesting theory suggests this is all a game, where contestants from the master world enter to experience life and to compete amongst themselves. You could go on and on with the theories explaining why a simulation like the world we live in might have been created, but again, that's all speculation. Though it is important to recognize that whatever purpose is behind the simulation we live in, if we live in a simulation, is likely not sinister, and is very unlikely a situation of machines exploiting our bodies to produce energy. It's also important to consider that, unlike The Matrix, our actual bodies and brains wouldn't need to be "plugged into" a simulated reality. The more probable and accepted theory is that the entire universe we live in is a simulated reality. The laws of Physics and Quantum Mechanics are part of the programming creating the world we live in. We exist as entities of some sort, entirely within the simulation. Once you eliminate the Hollywood elements from The Matrix, including the need to be plugged into the simulated reality, and the machines farming humans for energy, you don't have much of a movie. Why? Because there's no way to unplug yourself from The Matrix, and there's no real good reason to either. You exist entirely within The Matrix, the way that we exist entirely within the universe. If not for The Matrix you wouldn't exist at all, so you'd be thankful for The Matrix, if your life wasn't too awfully rotten. If we're living in a simulated reality, it's very likely that it would be the only place we exist. Even if you believe we have souls, you must recognize that the thinking part of us, which creates the part of our consciousness referred to as "I", is created completely within the physical world. Meaning that even if your soul were to continue to exist after your body perished, the "I" most likely wouldn't. Again, a reason to be thankful for the simulated reality you live in, if you live in a simulated reality. Without it, you wouldn't exist at all. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- So what we see when examining the possibility that we're living in a simulation is that, at the fundamental level, it doesn't really matter. It doesn't make us any less special. It doesn't make the experience any less real. God could still exist within a simulation. The simulation is essentially the medium for the universe. Without it, there would be no universe. And with no universe, none of us would exist. Again, a good be reason to be thankful for the simulated reality you live in, if you live in a simulated reality. Though there are a couple things we haven't talked about yet. Regard for others and acceptance of temporality, and ability to recognize the world as a matrix and control your mind.
  6. Special Sunshine Eagle

    Well hello my special sunshine eagle, fancy meeting you above the clouds. Where you like to soar, and often ignore, the carnage below you. How are you, my special sunshine eagle? How lucky to share with you this height, where we can both see, true reality, if only tonight... And if I might break each rule and circumvent all reason. I could spend a day you with you and be... Under your influence, my special sunshine eagle, yes it seems you know me way too well, my special sunshine eagle. And why such a silly name? you ask as if you fell of the turnip truck. The turnip truck that took a turn too quickly. You lost your balance, and landed in my life. And yes, I'm talking to you, you flesh and blood woman. You temptress of the most worthy kind. You add such a flavor to life that without you, I wouldn't feel the urge to sit down, and devour it at all. You flesh and blood woman. As if there is any other kind. As if there'd be a reason, this side of Hell, to make any other kind. As if a flesh and blood woman isn't enough for all of eternity. And so I go on, my special sunshine eagle, to those darker places you shall never see, my special sunshine eagle. And thankful you should be, that you should not descend with me and see the shadow cast by our eternity my special sunshine eagle. And how you like to hear me. play with words, and sometimes wonder if you do deserve, my love for you, and you do, my special sunshine eagle, it's obvious in the way that I look at you, and a million other ways, my special sunshine eagle.
  7. If I Could See You

    Another spoken word... If I could see you, I wouldn't be writing. I'd be kissing you, and God knows what might happen from there. God knows, and you know, and I know, and I guess we're all clairvoyant in our ability to predict what would happen if you and I were in the same room, and no one was around, or within hearing distance, and there was no place either of us had to be. And why not? Because God knows I've missed you. God knows, and I know, and you know and pretty much everyone who could possibly know knows how much I've missed you. I miss you for obvious reasons. I miss you because it's been a long time. How long, I can't remember. And I miss you because there's no one like you, as far as I'm concerned. In the context of this writing, that's as far as we need be concerned. But that's not as far as we'll go:) If I could see you, I'd so not be writing. I'd so not be doing anything but looking at your eyes. Not in them, quite yet. At them for now. Wondering if you got them from your mother. And whose child you are? Not that it matters, though it really does. If I could see you, I'd be looking in your eyes from a very short distance. A distance without any room for error. Which of course is every distance. Though this is the one I prefer. And you see, it's not just that I can see you that much better. I can smell you that much better as well. And here in a while, I'll be able to taste you that much better too. Here in a while, like four seconds, like four in the five-foot-four you are, which I happen to find rather perfect in terms of the distance you protrude up from the ground (give or take four inches, either direction, and please don't say, "that's what she said") And now that we've gotten all that behind us; all that preliminary nonsense; all that cutesy bs; let's talk about what would happen if I could see you. If I could see you, I probably couldn't see you at all because I'd be so close to you. But that's okay, because I'd be able to feel you, and you me, the weight of my body on top of you, the way that you like it. And from there, there probably wouldn't be a lot of seeing going on, at least not that I could remember or you for that matter. So, without much seeing going on, as we've established, if I were on top of you and kissing you, there wouldn't be much need to go on in a poem, or spoken word piece titled "If I could see you." So now you're free to go!
  8. Another experiment with stream of consciousness and spoken word. Count the reasons, yes I can, count them all on one left hand, I can count them all the way to zero. Sometimes it's the absence, of what I can't be sure, causing me to wonder if I'm knocking on the right door. If I'm standing on the right street, and more, if I'm in the proper universe. A bad reason would be welcome at this point. Because even that contains reason, if only a couple of nano unit's worth. If I were being honest, I'd tell you straight-up, that now a nervous pic is all I see. Complete and utter stranger, one most clearly feminine, staring in an odd and troubling way. And room to room the drone moves, streaming back the footage of life as we have known it until now. Existence in this Wild-West hotel. Exiled to a backward time, where we must spend each day, and know our lives, our real lives, only by our dreams at night. Sometimes we return; but rarely we remember. Only during poker games, and drunken barroom brawls, do bits and pieces occupy our minds. Remind us of a future time. A world imbued with color, without those static lines, whatever they're worth... And now the chainless door, and waiting on the other side, a scene that seems to have quite high potential. Many plants, growing high, poster seedlings of that more pure era. And even when that pseudo-canine called on by his instincts; gratuitously coded in his brain. Even then does he obey, expels the air in rhythmic bursts and adds his heart and soul throughout the day. And the footsteps from above, the never-rhythmic thuds, the always soulful, artist-filled expression, of ordinary life. Just another day. Another vastly different day, a lost and faceless uncle of the others. Jump a line ahead, skip a couple rounds, and notice what you'll smell there, rising from the ground. The grass, so freshly cut, is greener. Ah, the worn-out proverb. And the fumes from the mower, still linger. Gasoline, or what remains. But still a lovely sight. You could see yourself there every night. Sipping whiskey and water, or any drink you please. Knowing you can sleep it off, to a soothing breeze, in the doubtful case that you have too many. In the more likely event that your life goes to Hell, because it's just a hop away, and some evil looking kid is right behind you, armed with a shocker, ready to plant it right where you sit. And your eyes water even at the thought of the pain you will feel right behind your eyes. Right there in your front cerebral cortex. Oh, the pain in your brain, coming from the strain, and the refusal of that automatic creature to restrain herself. To refrain from her OCD-like behavior. And then the storm moves in, but it's a living one! It's a break in the boredom! It's a drug for your senses. And alas you'll be happy when it's gone. And it will be, here before too long. And your life will go on, if that's what you should call it. So minimize the window, put the laptop down, toss the covers off, turn yourself around, and reach. Reach for your precious. Put your hands on your precious, but be careful with it. Bring your precious to your chest, and wave goodbye to me. Bye bye, you say, gesticulating sadly. Bye bye, I say, annunciating gladly. Perhaps you think my precious is preciouser than yours? I don't think so. I think the problem is you haven't put your precious to your lips yet. Do that. and feel your precious reach its full potential. Go on, and do that. And let's be done with this tired topic: of your precious, and mine. Both of them are fine. The only other thing that requires discussion at this very moment, is the blind. That thing whose soul purpose is to shelter me, keep me from the sunshine. Not that I would smoke or flame, if a photon hit me; not that it would cause me any pain, the sunshine, that is. My fear is that a ray might light upon the words I write, and have a more vampire-like effect, causing them great fright, making them take flight, and leave the piece I'm writing an absolute wreck. So, I'd appreciate it if you'd pull the blind. And straighten out the edges there, so some wise ray of sunshine isn't tempted to sneak in. And thank you, I appreciate that. And I must let you go, and you must me too, let me go that is, but don't forget your precious!
  9. Maybe more right...

    An attempt at stream of consciousness... When best becomes worst, and worst becomes best, canceling out. Making zero. I will follow, but not so close, as to lower the distance to zero for that would be painful. I write to you as if you exist. You do I suppose, in puzzling space-time. I suspect you sit and write poems about me into the evening hours. Not to be too overly literal, in calling this piece a poem, a spoken word perhaps, written from mystical places. How I wish I could go there. Reality has come to be a bad word for me. But what can Juan do? Change it. That's what Juan can do. With a liquid, perhaps. Or a more gaseous fix, drawn through liquid, the intake more pleasant. Trainwreck, such a pretty tragedy. A battle I fight right now... To describe the battle as such... I fight. To delete a word I fight. To add an ellipsis I fight until I wear myself out, and reluctantly ad three dots... Make me happy it does to see words appear, as if by magic perhaps, perhaps not at all, instead by something more real. I wish I could go there. I wish I could stay there. But reality, you see. Reality won't let me be. It stands at the door and screams, if ever I try to ignore it. And two-stroke engines, off in the distance, driven by bipedal primates. With cognitive skills sufficient, to stomp on the pedals and wiggle the wheels just right to pollute the otherwise silence, to fill up the night with noise. Landfill-variety ambience. Take effort, it does, to write in a stream of consciousness. To watch all the fishies wash by, and keep your eye focused there towards the middle. Or maybe more right, just a little. Though too far will render pure fiction. I know you now, I understand you, better at least. And now I feel myself boring, almost, not quite, I caught myself just in time. The coyotes are back in the plumb patch. Denning perhaps, perhaps not, but probably. Soon to start catching chickens to feed all their precious pups! Soon to start raiding henhouses, While gathering valuable stuff. The writing is on the wall, but the writing it isn't enough. And now to let go as aqua blue women, with pink hair spear fish from the river. A river as rich as a painting. As vivid as any cartoon, with any blue creatures worth naming. And quite a ways north, and some years ago, I sat outside and ordered a Gyro, except that I called it a gyro, envisioned a gyroscope. I had one, once. No sir, it's not easy, not easy at all, to let the stream flow, the consciousness go. There's always a smurf on your shoulder, watching each strike of the key. Ready to tell you how that shouldn't be. It shouldn't be like this, or that. That's what it says. That's all it ever fucking says. The joke just goes over their heads, as if they're not watching. As if they don't care. They heard it whiz by, in the humid spring air, but they couldn't be bothered to stop. To pause and look up. And that's okay, because God heard my joke, prior today, and God really thought it was funny! God slapped his knee and said, Funny, this joke be! Then God turned into a bee, and shot off to gather nectar, return to the hive and help all the others make honey, the other bees, yes, also Gods. Gods of various worlds. Some nice, some mean, and some in-between. The one they've labeled the queen, she makes more, from time to time. And now I should end this I guess, and let you be on your way, cause I'm sure you have plans today. Can't spend all your waking hours listening to me, spout on about utter non-sense. So I will find a subtle way to put this piece to bed for the night, so we can get on with our lives. But not before one final hoo-rah. Not before one green hoo-rah. Who-rahed? I don't know who rahed. Why does it matter? It doesn't. And how do I know? LOL. Ain't that a silly question!
  10. I'd probably get high

    This one usually gets some laughs. Something I put together quite a while ago.
  11. Magic

    Magic by Gregg Boethin The World of Possibility is the world from which all worlds are created. For in any given world, at any moment, there have been, at various points (on the corresponding timeline), possibilities that such a world might exist. And in theory, there was someone who might have guessed such a possibility, and in doing so, predicted the world now. Or, given such an understanding, make some seemingly insignificant adjustment at some point earlier, only to see its exponential effect produce something wonderful, for that particular individual, or for all of mankind. Magic is in the planting of seeds. Knowing where to make the indentation in the soil, how to deep to make it, and when to raise the water can, and call it good. Just the right amount. Magic is in knowing how to nurture that precious little bringer of life, into a full-grown, autonomous being, which might not only sustain itself, given a few essential ingredients, but also sustain you. The only question that Magic doesn't consider is, why? Magic doesn't consider the question of why, because the answer is obvious.
  12. The Wind is Picking Up

    The Wind is Picking Up Words and Music by Gregg Boethin Copyright 2017, All Rights Reserved The wind is picking up again, warmer weather moving in, much needed reprieve from the nastiest winter here ever. I guess we better get to work, cause still a lot of danger lurks, gotta make the most of this fortunate break in the weather. The snow is piled up high to the sky, and there’s living lines in the smothering white, and the gasoline engines they move us along, but just barely, and we plow on. The wind is picking up again, a long awaited storm moves in, with violent lightning, far more frightening than any we’ve seen yet. Creeping closer every day, manifesting many ways, we close our eyes and we fantasize, and we look the other way. The debt is piled up high to the sky, add a billion more in the blink of an eye, angry creditors they beat on our door, turn the t.v. up to best ignore them. The wind is picking up again, warmer weather moving in, much needed reprieve from the nastiest winter here ever.
  13. Cockadoodle-Don't

    My first of the new year. Cockadoodle-Don't Words and Music by Gregg Boethin Copyright 2017, All Rights Reserved Cockadoodle does, and he always did, Cockadoodle thinks the dark-haired girl is pretty. Ah the sights of this city, the sights of this old city. Cockadoodle won't, least he never did, take a left or a right, put an 'x' on a square, push an elevator button and go anywhere. Neither sink nor swim, nor will, nor won't, Cockadoodle-Don't. A twinkle in the midnight sky, lost among million lights. A print upon the kitchen wall, no doubt the saddest one of all. Cockadoodle does, and he always will. Make a lunge for the courage, descend into Hell, really drill deep to the depths of himself. But when the moment comes, he neither will nor won't, Cause Cockadoodle-Don't. A dew drop on a blade of grass, in a field so wide and vast. An ornament upon the shelf, a painted symbol of yourself. Cockadoodle does, and he always did, Cockadoodle thinks the dark-haired girl is pretty. Ah the sights of this city, the sights of this old city.
  14. Early Morning Red

    I managed to sneak one more in before 2017. Happy New Years!!! Early Morning Red Words and Music by Gregg Boethin Copyright 2016, All Rights Reserved Gonna take a leap of faith, gonna pay no mind to the gators down there waiting, the rapids up ahead, or the early morning red. There are just a few pages left blank and still waiting, for after-midnight ink, a trusty black gel-pen that keeps me from the brinks. You know I didn’t choose her, she chose me. To think I could stop, how foolish I’d be, to run away from such a forceful friend. She’d follow my trail, she’d catch me again. They’re brown with some green and they dance and they seem to never run out of glow, a powerful passion burning in your soul. Your dark-brown hair seems lighter than air, as you hurry here and there, and never make a sound, your shoes up off the ground. Yes it’s been a long time, possibly never, since I let myself imagine forever, and I finally see the ship come into view. It whispers your name, it makes me think of you. Gonna take a leap of faith, gonna pay no mind to the gators down there waiting, the rapids up ahead, or the early morning red.
  15. Hey all, just finished a new one. Merry Christmas! You Really Like to See Me Suffer Words and Music by Gregg Boethin Copyright 2016, All Rights Reserved You really like to see me suffer, so you twist the knife. You come and go and don't consider the way it just might turn the world I live in upside-down, in all my life you're the only one I've found. You really like to see me suffer, so you walk away. And I keep holding out and hoping maybe some day your eyes will open up and finally you will see no one who's ever lived can love you good as me. And on your face a trace of all the hurt you've known, yet here's two arms to make it better all night long. And somewhere there's a story with a sentence that explains why the constant shadow, why the endless rain. Your pretty face betrays the pain that you have known, yet here's two arms to make it better all night long. You really like to see me suffer, it's written in your smile. And the way you move your body, such cruel, cruel, style.
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