In This Wasteland (Of A Thousand Flies)

I wanted to write a happy song today. Somehow I just couldn’t. Happy songs and I don’t mix. Anyway, if my guitarist Jason and my bassist Cynthia are both happy with the dark songs of mine, why do I bother to fight so hard? Just embrace it? I usually compose my music using a classical guitar. My buddy JB, a fellow musician, once commented that I like to play a classical guitar because of the comfort of nylon strings. Well, to speak of the truth, each session of songwriting is on average 4 to 6 hours non-stop playing and singing. Worse case it may stretch to the 8 hours mark. The comfort of nylon strings is very much welcome. Besides, I always love to hear the clarity of harmonic chords coming from a classical guitar. I can hear clearly all the six notes. Much clearer so than the steel string acoustic guitars.

But today, I wanted to go electric. So I hooked up my electric guitar to my home studio. Wanted something that sounds different, I – for the first time – used the drum machine that comes with my guitar & amp effect. Partly because I couldn’t seem to follow the 116 tempo from the metronome.

I love the first line of the song very much. Very visual. Lyrically, I think Jason may like the end result because he tends to like lyrics with a twist to it. I like the different guitar strumming patterns and I must say, composing music with a drum machine seems to have opened up a new dimension of pattern variation.

At the end of the 4 hours session, my fingers were all numb – still is (damn steel strings) and I was staving as I have skipped lunch. Hope all that is worth it.

IN THIS WASTELAND (OF A THOUSAND FLIES)

In this wasteland of a thousand flies
Under this scorching sun where my bones lie
In this hollow skull of an absent mind
I lie awake scourged by my conscience

You raise me up from this land of the dead
You raise me up this pleasure I conceded
You raise me up from this land of the dead
You raise me up till there is nothing left to hide inside

To hide away is to run away
To fantasize till there’s nothing inside
It was a life that was long forgotten
I’ve been waiting till my life runs dryTo hide away is to run away
To fantasize till there’s nothing inside
It was a life that was long forgotten
I’ve been waiting till my life runs dry

In this wasteland of a thousand flies
You raise me up to take a thousand lives

An army of me in these hands of yours
An army of me in this land of the dead
An army of me in these hands of yours
An army of me in this land of the dead

To hide away is to run away
To fantasize till there’s nothing inside
It was a life that was long forgotten
I’ve been waiting till my life runs dryIf there is one thing I want to know
If there is one thing that is in my mind
Are you the one who is prophesied
Are you here, here to save my life

Copyright © 2007 by Wilfrid K. F. Wong. All Rights Reserved.