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Flying High (In The Friendly Sky)

from What's Going On by Sean Riddell

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lyrics

Flying high in the friendly sky.
Lifted by writing; it gets me high.
Lets me fly without ever leaving the ground.
When I don’t have it, I need it around.

Seeking it out at the end of the day,
despite what some of the friends of mine say.
But my closest circle is addicts
to everything from the sound to the static.

As I lay down at the end of the night
and pick up a pencil to write,
sharp enough to know that it’s led me on
to write for those that read me wrong.

I step beyond the threshold
and compress those experiences to my best prose.
I jump off the walls I’ve built,
flying high above all my filth.


All my feelings spilling out as literature,
and filling out my signature.
Thus I’ve come to find punchlines
written in blood from my blood lines.

The needle in the vein draws out
an image written that can’t be crossed out
if you take the Robert Frost route,
gone and blocked the laws out. Ink falls out,

through the arms; through the pen
to the page to the end.
Splashing fashioned puddles,
imaging the imagined troubles.

Honestly, how do we
describe the truth like photography?
So in the work to capture the,
we lose track of re-ality.


So if that means I lost it, I rhyme that,
‘cause I really lose it when I can’t find that.
And yes, my friend, I know that I’m hooked.
I’m only an open book when I open my book.

In the morning I’ll be all right, my friend.
I’ll be quiet, I won’t write, I’ll fight again.
I’ll push it all down and I’ll bottle it up.
I’ll keep it inside though I gotta erupt.

Nobody really understands, no.
They can’t know the love I can’t show.
How I go to the place where feeling awaits,
and they conversate, “Is it real, is it fake?”

I hold self-destruction in my hand
in the form of a pen, and since it began,
I’ve been hooked, just look in my eye.
It’s not the same since I took to the sky.

credits

from What's Going On, released January 8, 2009

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Sean Riddell Detroit, Michigan

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