Three months had passed since i last set foot on the dusty doormat.
Nobody but me took care of this place and i had had not too much time for that either.
So the dust and dirt had made itself at home.
As i opened the windows in each room, shame overwhelmed me.
My duty to keep this place incorrupt... i hadnt been able to fulfill.
I took care of the cleaning disregarding the time it would take me.
I had plenty of that now that my dreams had been finally crushed.
No job, no place to stay but the house by the lake and all the memories hanging in the air as if they
were silent ghosts judging me with their penetrating gaze.
I came to this place to try out some pills a friend had given me not too long ago.
He told me they would work wonders on my creativity and my self esteem, making me get past the
sadness that threatened to consume me.
I had taken the pills, but internally refused to take them.
I would deal with my problems myself, as i had always done and i would work my way to the top without
the use of external inspiration.
I thought the grief and all the lingering emotions would act as my muse.
Oh, but how wrong was I?
Very wrong... very very wrong...
Nothing had come out of it, no inspiration, no great compositions, not even a decent hit...
And so i sat in the middle of the living room, staring out of the window into the willow and the lake.
The bottle of pills in my right hand and the guitar lying in front of me.
If this didnt work, then i had nothing to lose anyway.
I popped open the white lid that separated me from an endless sea of posibilities and despair and
swallowed one of those little orange pills.
A 20 written on one side, "732" on the other and an obliterating sadness took over me.
I knew that the effects wouldnt kick in until after at least 2 hours, so there were 2 dreadful hours ahead
I closed the bottle up, took the guitar, leaned back in order to lay on the floor and put it on my belly.
A quick glance at the ceiling revealed that i had missed a huge spot while cleaning and a solitary spider
span its sily web all over the lamp that lifelessly hung from a single cable.
I was usually afraid of spiders, but right now i didnt care that much. And she was too far away and
That was the only thing i had under control at that moment, though.
I started feeling a tad bit better, so i got up from the floor and hung the guitar around my neck.
A song about a spider? Nah...
A song about the fear of the spider? Better...
I started strickig chords in an apparently random pattern.
Slowly it started taking shape, developping from a ghastly idea to a solid secuence.
I hummed a tune while playing at first, but that just wasnt enough.
I stopped playing but kept humming, i had to get this on tape or something. I got the recorder out of the
guitar bag, placed it on the table, hit the record button and kept playing.
Soon the lyrics started pouring out of my mind, through my gut and into the room.
I dont know how much time i spent senslessly jamming in the room, all i know is that i took a break
when daylight was about to pass away.
Now it was time to listen to what i had been doing for the past 5 hours.