song of the week: hostage of love

Razorlight is an English indie-rock band, and Hostage of Love is from their 3rd album, Slipway Fires.

Like what some of the reviewers say, I prefer to think Johnny Borrell was personifying love (in all forms) when he wrote this song. It's even got a biblical theme running through some parts.

Listen.

You make yourself a prisoner of me
You blind yourself so you don't have to see
You turn your life to a power above
And make yourself a hostage of love

You turn from me, you turn from the strain
Devote yourself to the power again
Distance yourself from all that we vowed
You broke the rules, you're my hostage now

I am a sinner
I am a saint
I am a devil
I am the ghost at the wake
I feed the swell and pull
Of your tears as they break
I am the limit of
The load you can take

You are the pulley
And I am the winch
I am salvation
And your herald of sin
I take you beyond
Your limits of trust
Redeem yourself
Hostage of love

You say you have been born again
Since you slept there in that liar's den,
You cannot be saved
You gave your innocence away

I've turned my cheek
And I've suffered the blow
The truth of my story
Is widely unknown
Words of derision I have
Swallowed with a smile
For telling my story
I have been crucified

Now like a madman
I give my laurels to you
And like a hero
Forsake my trophies for you
Though a disciple of this devil
That is in our blood
Am I not also
Your hostage of love?

You say you have been born again
Since you slept there in that liar's den,
You cannot return
Until your innocence is earned

You say you've got to live alone
Though it hurts,

You'll make it on your own

You cannot be saved

You gave your innocence away

You will remain a hostage of love

the great debate

I've been debating with myself lately: should I go curly? Or remain straight? (With my hair, I mean.)

You see, I've always wanted wanted WANTED to have those curls, but the last time I had my hair permed, it was curly for about a week or so.

And then it went back to the frizzy, limp hair I've always had. So I thought I was finally at this stage where I've made peace with my hair and I've accepted it for what it really is = frizzy, boring, dull.

But then I saw that picture above, and I was like

O.M.G. Bring. It. On.

So I'm thinking I may just take another stab at that dream hair I've always wanted, and I may do just that this weekend.

Or maybe not.

The great debate continues, thus.

mission: impossible

Art: Courtesy of Courtney

One drunken episode a few nights back, I decided to disturb someone's peaceful night by sending him philosophical, thought-provoking text messages (let's just say this someone's name is Cocoy).

But honestly? Reviewing these messages, I really don't know what I meant by these, and even he was equally stumped as well. Perhaps y'all could help decipher what I meant?

So in case you're needing a little bit of puzzle-solving fix, consider these:

Text 1 (sent 11:57pm) - !@@

Text 2 (sent 11:57pm) - dhlum nahan a2c

Text 3 (sent 12:02am) - kmi rabif

Text 4 (sent 12:08am) - frme nku

Text 5 (sent 12:08am) - rai ak dha

Text 6 (sent 12:10am) - mka nmtbh nh jndx 4roo h an a ck hm

Text 7 (sent 12:10am) - ,--

Text 8 (sent 12:11am) - gqmpn dw i6 iac

--End

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to decode these text messages. I suggest you knock back a tequila shot or two (or more - who cares, right?) so that you can maybe try to see where I'm coming from when I sent these.

I'd also wanna add (in true "mission: impossible" style): "this blog post will self-destruct in a few seconds," but that would be stretching it quite a bit.

So I'll just end this post with: "Bottoms up!"