Lost horse.

Voice gone.

Dammit.

Two out of the three songs done and they are good, but the last one is not working.
And now I have lost my voice.

The cold I've been fighting finally got me.

I'm eating pickled ginger.

lyrics from knifey

He posted some lyrics today.
I must find this song.
Sometime when I have more time.

What Becomes of Us- Holly Throsby, from the album 'Under the Town'.

It is early
You are dead
There are crows in our bed
But I won’t come undone
We are done, we are done
There is air still
In my lungs
I will get up and get on
With the other mouths and tongues
And the work there is to be done
This is what becomes of us
There are dim things in the pond
There is dust under the rug
And I don’t ever know
What’s below what’s below
But I am up!
I am above!
I have a new love!
And it’s warm like a gun
Or a knife that I fell on
This is what becomes of us
I was not ready
You won’t be back
I was not ready.

Butterflies.

The viola and violin tracks are both laid down, now it's just voice left for me.
Gray's tin whistle will probably go last.

I have butterflies.

*shiver*

O.M.G.

I am not one to use the latest jargon.
I'm not one to try to be cool/kewl/down/up/hot/cold with it.
With anything.

I am a very bad musician who cannot pick an instrument (boom boom), who was kicked out of orchestra for indecision (viola? violin? viola? violin? viola? violin?) and only made it to grade three piano before.. actually, let's not go there. If I told you the Series of Unfortunate Events that are my music teachers - you'd wonder (like we did) if we were cursed... and infectious.

One remark stands out:
"I thought I was highly strung!"

Boom. bloody Boom.

Anyway, suffice to say, the road to musical greatness has been as rocky as the Dublin.

Tonight was one of those amazing nights that fellow(sister) musicians will know.
Everything was right.

Five songs!!!!!
FIVE.

How's that?