Writing - It's a Disease - Writing - It's a Disease - Writing - It's a Disease 컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴� Strictly頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰By James Hetfield 頰頰頰頰�Text頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰�"The Solitary Song"頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰� 頰頰頰頰頰頰頰Distribution頰Issue Two頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰 컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴� Writing - It's a Disease - Writing - It's a Disease - Writing - It's a Disease He woke up suddenly, sweat pouring down his face. His dreams of flying men, angels, dragons, knights, were all washed away in an instant. All around him, silence, quiet, calm, solitude. But the song was still pounding away in his head. You just stood there screaming Fearing no one was listening to you His mind was racing. He couldn't get the song out of his thoughts. It possessed him in every way. He heard the lyrics and felt the pounding within his mind. And knew what he had to do. Jumping in old cut-off jeans and throwing on an old T-shirt, with in big letters Metallica on the front, and a picture of two yellow skulls intertwined by yellow bandages, he began to head out the door of his house. The aging, rotting, decrepit house he glanced at on his way down the street reminded him of his childhood, when he used to run home from school and scream and cry in anger and frustration because of mean boys and meaner girls. They say the empty can rattles the most The sound of your own voice must soothe you He soon found himself crossing the large soccer fields of his old junior high school. The vague calmness of the summer night relaxed him, and he breathed in the humid air. The air! Something so easily taken for granted. Something that at the moment smelled of life itself, of vitality, of wet trees and wet leaves. He followed dark, narrow paths to continue on to his destination. They reminded him of the last time he went on this crusade. They reminded him of all the tears that rolled down his face when coming home. They didn't just feel like tears, more of blood. Blood rolling down from the corners of his eyes, having that warm and sweaty taste on the tip of his lips. Hearing only what you want to hear And knowing only what you've heard A wave of disgust overcame him. He couldn't believe he was actually going through with all this. Looking - 3am. 3am and he's out on the streets of the city, going somewhere he is not expected. But... this repulsion quickly subsided. You You're smothered in tragedy You're out to save the world He remembered the conversations the night before. The night before that. The previous night. Every night. Almost every night. Many a night, at least. The late nights. The early nights. The mail. The phone. In person. In front of his house. At restaurants. Car trips. No, he was doing the right thing. He was sure this time. You insist that the weight of the world Should be on your shoulders The quarter around his neck seemed to be almost burning his chest, it was so warm. When he noticed the sensation, he quickly broke the string that kept the quarter around his neck, and placed it in his pocket. He had found this quarter, which had a large hole soldered through it, during another day and another time. But this was not that time, he kept telling himself, and this certainly was not that day. There's much more to life than what you see My friend of misery He was getting close. He breathed in heavy the fairly clean air of Glenview, hoping this would help to renew his fanatic desire. And the cool wind quenched his flame, because it reminded him of a night, in the cold, by the park, by the sand, on the swings... You still stood there screaming No one caring about these words you tell The swings. Staring, watching, following. Frustration, wonder, amazement. Confusion? The cold seemed to repress even more the flame in his heart, a flame that was aching to be set free. But when repressed, the flame moved to his mind also, making his desire one that - that - he had to answer to. My friend before your voice is gone One man's fun is another's hell He saw her large home. The home that, like the rest on her block, stood high into the heavens. Just like her. Looking - 4:30am. In a few hours, she would be on her way into her daily routine, making the important decisions in life (what to wear, how to do her hair today, etc.). He smiled at the idea of someone planning their wardrobe, instead of just grabbing the first thing in sight like he always did. These times are sent to try men's souls But something's wrong with all you see He walked in back of the house, to sit next to the pond that was almost directly behind it. Geese were just waking up, it seemed, and they were flying over the water, next to the water, a few on the water. He wondered if she would see him back there. He wondered what she would think if she say him back there. Would she be scared? No, he doubted if she would be scared. Would she be afraid? Perhaps. But the fear and the tension he knew drove him (and her) crazy, both in good ways and bad ways. It was all part of the big game. The big game that seemed it may never have an ending, until now. For there he was, waiting, patiently, and was ready. He remembered the endless nights, where he would be woken by a voice, a voice outside of his house, beckoning him to come outside, to experience her... a voice, tender and afraid, which had not been otherwise heard by anyone for years. She was silent, awkward, but wonderful nonetheless. He would come out, to be with her, to talk with her, to wonder with her, but every time she drove away, away from his fears, his insecurities, his confusions. You You'll take it on all yourself Remember, misery loves company He stared out at the pond, feeling the sunlight creep over the horizon. He felt something burning away at the back of his head. He turned around, and saw in the upstairs window. The curtains had been pushed aside, and there she was, staring right down upon him. They did not motion to each other at all, just stared. Looked. For one brief moment, the song left his mind and he only enjoyed watching the girl who was watching him. A wave of warmth flooded his entire body. He was free, alive. He stood up, and continued to stare at the girl, wondering why this had not happened earlier, why he was not where he is now. He loved her, he knew it. He knew it and understood it more than he had ever before. He felt her pain, her fears, her worries. He had all of this inside of himself. She closed the curtains, and soon was at the back door, standing there in a robe and pajamas that she wore to bed every night. And she had silly slippers with monkeys on them. Right at that moment, he was shocked to see what he now saw. Her entire body, her entire female form, was of a little girl. A girl he knew well, a girl he desired, but was still a little girl. He turned away in fright; he could not look at her ever again. He loved her - he loved her as a brother loves a sister; as an incestuous brother loves a sister. The mere thought of touching her made his entire body burn with lust - and write in agony. His eyes contacted her once more, and the look of her glance sent needles through his eyes, they pierced through his eyes and into his mind, a mind blackened by earthly sins and moral corruption. You just stood there screaming My friend of misery And with this, with pins and with needles, with pains and with nausea, with love and with disgust, he ran off as quickly as his legs could take him, as long as his lungs would allow, as far as his endurance could stand. And right when he was far enough away that he could see again, far enough away that he could hear again, there was a solitary song going through his aching mind, a song that has pounded in him since the day he was born. [�File 02頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰�] [頰頰頰頰�8852 bytes頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰] [頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰�The Solitary Song頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰�] [頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰�By James Hetfield頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰�] [頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰�04/14/95頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰] [頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰頰�]