Frye

Yay!

Our band was formerly called ASW Scotch, but today during lunch, we came up with the idea of calling it Frye. It's not defenite, but I like it and (this is the coolest part about it) it relates to Rooney! In the movie Ferris Bueller's Day Off (which I hope all of you die-hard fans have seen), the physchotic principal is named Ed Rooney, right? Good. Ferris Bueller's best friend (who, in my opinion, is the coolest character in the movie) is named Cameron Frye. Thusly, we have our name!

I've changed this from a band section to a poetry/songs section. If you have a song or poem or something that you'd like me to put on because you don't have a website or something, email me and I will be more than happy to stick it on here. You'll even get something about you in the updates section. Bonus!


I have taken out the roles thing due to some contraversy relating to positions. For those of you who saw it before, I hope you memorized it because when we become famous, you'll be able to recite who was originally in the band. Yay!

I've written a whole bunch of songs and so has Jaz but we're not putting our songs up anymore. Many of mine are written in my forbidden red notebook that no one's allowed to touch. One's about Jacques and it's not really a song but more of a poem and I'm going to put that one up because it's PP-related.


Ballad

His hair
Dark with a tinge of red
"Do you color it?" I ask
To which he nods his head

Takes the guitar
From its battered case
Adjusts the strap
That pinches his shoulder

I watch from afar
Not wanting to disturb
This master of guitar

Plucks the strings
To a tune in his head
His foot taps to the rythm
As the song takes form

I steal a glance
As he looks up
I smile awkwardly
And turn away

The song contines
To write itself
Satisfied
He plugs in,
Turns on the amp,
And lets it rip


Small Talk

The awkward silence
That plauges all attemps
For conversation

I cough, shuffle my feet
Look up
But only to see
You've turned the other way

I try something easy
"So, about the weather.
It's been awful breezy."

Small talk is taking over
I feel its tyrannical presence
Looming like a dark cloud

The weather, new clothes
Prices, jobs, gossip
Anthing to keep us going

And then that awkward silence
Takes over once again
I mumble, look at the sky
Wanting to aviod your eye

I come up with come excuse
We smile
Part ways
Yet I still hear the silence
Like a broken record in my head


Here's a song that our beloved friend Justine wrote...
I don't know if it has a name yet. She wrote out the lyrics for me while we were choreographing our ballet, so I didn't get the chance to ask her any questions.

I lay on my bed
thinking
Whatever's to become of me?
Blank paper in hand
thinking
What song to write? Let me see...

(moderate music starts)

My mind is full and
racing
Bare of ideas
But there's one thing, it must be
chasing
Whatever could it be?

(full music)

Chorus:
I feel empty
No thoughts are coming clear
That's it. Just empty
No inspiration of to hear [I don't really get that part either. Maybe she mis-wrote it]
I feel empty
No lyrics in my head
They hide from me instead

I sit on a chair
Thinking
What idea could come from me?
A pen in my hand
Thinking
What's this song to be?

Chorus

I rack my brain
An idea suprs my soul
I don't refrain
I write it out in full

The paper is empty




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