Authors will tell you that, in the course of writing a story, characters will sometimes take on lives of their own, doing things that the author never intended. This song was the musical version of that for me (As an example, the “…with somewhere to go” was originally “…with nowhere to go”; the one-word change was significant.). I started off with the title, which I came up with near the end of work (You guessed it..) on a cloudy Monday. It was intended to be a contemplation on life in general, and then about halfway through the first verse, it took an entirely different direction.
Where it ended up isn’t based on any one specific person, but rather on my general experience with elderly loved ones in hospitals and nursing homes and the like. The second verse explores something that I had been thinking a lot about at the time–namely, is the journey through life really worth the likely end result of declining physical and mentally until you’re a practically lifeless shell of your former self?
This song isn’t really finished, on a couple levels. For one, I’m unsure which verse style to go with–in addition to the song as it stands right now, you can download the alternate second verse on its own (Though the verse is mostly the same, the arrangement is different). I’m also not sure whether to leave the song in its current understated (Just bass and vocals) incarnation, or do a sort of slow build that culminates in all-out rocking out on the “On a Cloudy Monday”s at the end. Any thoughts? Feel free to e-mail me (See the link on the sidebar) or leave comments on the corresponding post.
And yes, my voice squeaks audibly at about 3:05. I’ll leave it up to you whether I kept it in because it sounded more “real” or because I’m just lazy (Though I do like how it sounds, to be honest).
Stare out at the world
Look up to the sky
The limited light distorting my view
Walk down the street
With somewhere to go
March into a building
Bid the guard good morning
And walk up the stairs and push through a door
Sit down and wait
Lost in my concern
Peer at the bed then down to the floor
Will he ever get better?
Why do I even want to know?
Do I really want the answer?
Would it be better left unshown?
On a cloudy Monday…
Walk out the door
Back out on the street
Gather my thoughts in the winter cold
Regarding the masses
All lost in their own lives
I think about how it’ll feel to grow old
Arrive at my house
Lock out the outside
And ponder just where my life, it will lead
Question the journey
If it will be worth it
The trek to the end life, something I need
Will my last days be painless?
Will I wind up trapped in a bed?
Kept alive for no reason?
My only company in my head?
On a cloudy Monday (X 12)