Little Fish

Little Fish is a band that gets closer to the the fans, the root of the story and of the song, as comfortable playing house parties as they are the Royal Albert Hall.

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    31st October 2011

    Photo // 12 notes // Comments

    Thank You The Night. My desire was to walk into the hotel. As soon as I walked in the hallway, I felt wings growing out of me. Words tangled in my throat as I tried to tell the receptionist who I was. The words “Juju Sophie, room 312” slid from my mouth. As I said this, I felt myself lifting beyond the sun and over a bed of clouds. It had been a long day and I was tired. I could hear some children making some noise in the room next door. I wanted to give them some of the poems I had written to get between their teeth. Get them thinking. Get them to dress themselves. Imagination is a form of reality; a room of dreams that we can escape to and find refuge in during hard times: one is so easily able to trip over the past when running towards the future. Nothing in life has ever pardoned me for being the musician that I am. Every day that I live is the last of days. This night, I invited myself to the hotel room. I wanted to protect my sacred heart from the the mirror where I meet myself daily. This day, my reflection and I had bumped heads and I wanted space. The twelve strikes of midnight from the church clock keep my eyes open as my pupils dilate in the roads I had once walked. The moon is whole and is high in the sky. I ask for the moon’s forgiveness for at times, I had forgotten her. I hear the sound of my footsteps echo in my mind and as my shadow walks, I see a light coming from an open door which reminds me of the coldness of the night and of the life I sometimes live in. As a young insomniac I don’t stop to talk to anyone. My hair floats in the wind and my legs plant themselves as I walk, roots of a tree. Night and day shares nothing different to me anymore, please look after me. This night is gentle with me. It helps me recover. The night gently caresses my head as I rest and at dawn, one again, my body takes fire and becomes a rainbow. As I wake, I hear the sound of children. Their voices reciting the poems I had left with them. I feel the obscurity of my body and think of myself a child again, amongst them. I dress and feel alive. The day pushes all us humans to fight and live with other humans. I see you gave birth to me and I am loyal to living. As I walk out, I no longer feel my wings and think to myself that I may well be that albatross that fell on the crowd of people in the market square but I know that I did not come to the world by accident. I am an ordinary person in an infinite world. I am indeed myself. I am me and the world we live in is a marvellous Rubik’s Cube.

    Thank You The Night.

    My desire was to walk into the hotel. As soon as I walked in the hallway, I felt wings growing out of me. Words tangled in my throat as I tried to tell the receptionist who I was. The words “Juju Sophie, room 312” slid from my mouth. As I said this, I felt myself lifting beyond the sun and over a bed of clouds. It had been a long day and I was tired.

    I could hear some children making some noise in the room next door. I wanted to give them some of the poems I had written to get between their teeth. Get them thinking. Get them to dress themselves. Imagination is a form of reality; a room of dreams that we can escape to and find refuge in during hard times: one is so easily able to trip over the past when running towards the future. Nothing in life has ever pardoned me for being the musician that I am. Every day that I live is the last of days. This night, I invited myself to the hotel room. I wanted to protect my sacred heart from the the mirror where I meet myself daily. This day, my reflection and I had bumped heads and I wanted space.

    The twelve strikes of midnight from the church clock keep my eyes open as my pupils dilate in the roads I had once walked. The moon is whole and is high in the sky. I ask for the moon’s forgiveness for at times, I had forgotten her. I hear the sound of my footsteps echo in my mind and as my shadow walks, I see a light coming from an open door which reminds me of the coldness of the night and of the life I sometimes live in. As a young insomniac I don’t stop to talk to anyone. My hair floats in the wind and my legs plant themselves as I walk, roots of a tree. Night and day shares nothing different to me anymore, please look after me.

    This night is gentle with me. It helps me recover. The night gently caresses my head as I rest and at dawn, one again, my body takes fire and becomes a rainbow. As I wake, I hear the sound of children. Their voices reciting the poems I had left with them. I feel the obscurity of my body and think of myself a child again, amongst them. I dress and feel alive. The day pushes all us humans to fight and live with other humans. I see you gave birth to me and I am loyal to living. As I walk out, I no longer feel my wings and think to myself that I may well be that albatross that fell on the crowd of people in the market square but I know that I did not come to the world by accident. I am an ordinary person in an infinite world. I am indeed myself. I am me and the world we live in is a marvellous Rubik’s Cube.

    1. xn----slbefaduec3bfcs8cycfbfdiq reblogged this from littlefishmusic
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    4. lesbiansandthelivingdead reblogged this from littlefishmusic and added:
      lied. Please expect...just sit there quietly,
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