>What You Say In Your Sleep

>Class today got cancelled, so I have a few hours of "free" time. I am not entirely sure how to grasp that notion quite yet, so I am doing this instead:

A few updates first:

THANK YOU to everybody who has taken me up on this letter-writing project/extravaganza/nonsense, because you are all awesome. I have sent about 15 of them and the remaining 30 or so are coming just as fast as I can, what with it being exam week and all. Have patience, because everybody who gave me an address is getting a letter :)

In other, completely unrelated news (this is in reference to this post here, near the bottom), I will post down a little farther an video of portion of the aforementioned musical endeavors just for your viewing and critiquing and laughing pleasure. Yesterday I posted an only slightly more processed version on my Tumblr in mp3 format just to listen to. I have made slight slight changes in the lyrics since then but otherwise it's just an even more stripped down version.

It is about snub attitudes and soaring egos and any kind of prima donna polluting the air we breathe, and it is written from the first person because I believe we all fit in this category, with special emphasis on me. It's this "Godless grandeur" that the song sets out to combat, for it only leads to the "crumbling descent of Rome."

Yes, early versions were written specifically about English majors.

There are many more ideas in the works, this is just the first that has been kinda fleshed out. Over Christmas you can probably expect a more full demo but for now this will have to do :)

If I am just a stuffy, hard-headed, egotistical hypocrite, I assure you that is not my intention, but please tell me if I am. As with anything on this blog, if I am in the wrong I know how to hear it, in fact I expect to be called out.

The video:

What You Say In Your Sleep.
Criss cross past each other on the lawn
Pretending we're junkies, pretending we write good songs

Shoving our armchair philosophies
On wishing-well, 8-ball hypotheses
Erecting monuments to our vanity
Our treatises elaborate and unforseen

Pay no mind to our Godless grandeur
The web we're building is done

We'll topple your agency
in the dead of night
We'll use against you
What you say in your sleep

Legislators holed up in a motel on the side of the road
Scared of falling down how far we've climbed
No wordsmith rhymes can save us now

The burden of splendor amassed before us,
Again repeating the crumbling descent of
Rome and our buildings, our sculptures, our land

We'll fall inside and crawl back out

And pay no mind to our passing grandeur
The web we're building is done

We'll topple your agency in the dead of night
We'll use against you what you say
In your sleep, we'll topple your agency,
In the dead of night.
We'll use against you what you say in your sleep

Hamilton Barber

The subject of this page is an introverted writer/musician/lunatic from Chattanooga, TN who dabbles in lexical dexterity, unorthodox thoughts on prosperity, and being overwhelmingly undeserving of the privilege of waking up every day. He hopes that everybody who reads these words takes them to heart and leaps higher than he ever could. He reads, thinks, and speaks too much; he listens, works, and loves too little; and he says “I” entirely too often. The words on these pages are not his: they are the words that were given to him.