Page 12 - Scar Girl
P. 12
L e n V L a h o s
thing with his forehead, crinkling the place where his
eyebrows should be, kind of like a pug. The music was
much slower and more ballady than anything we’d ever
played before. But the riff was hypnotic. It was haunting.
Then Harry began to sing.
Phones ring.
Voices meander, like waves
beating up the air.
None of those voices ever sing.
She wonders if
She even cares.
She’s nearly a saint.
And no one notices when
she scrapes the ground.
She wishes she had the time
To hear pleasant sounds.
He stopped.
“I’m still working on some of the lyrics, but it has a
bridge, too.” He started strumming, going from the main
riff to a series of power chords.
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