Seven Nation Army (DISCONTINUED)

Soul Punk

(No Song Title)

I huff as I listen to Mikey screaming. He's having a nightmare again. He does almost every night, and I know because I never sleep. Sometimes he'll scream a name, often it's Gerard, or occasionally Ray, or sometimes he'll scream words of denial and pleading.

I can hear Dr. Bell trying to talk to him and calm him down. Good luck with that. She tries every night, to no avail. I guess she still does it because she gets paid.

I close my eyes. I sit on the bed and cross my legs, cocking my head to the left slightly as I think. I don't think about much, because I don't have too many memories.

You can't think about anything if you can't recall anything.

I like thinking about noise. I like thinking about a bass line that gets caught in my head so many times, but I don't know what it's from. It's hard to describe. I think, if I were to play it, it would be on the A string. Seven, seven, ten, seven, five, three, two. Seven, seven, ten, seven, five, three, four, three, two.

But it's not certain. I haven't played my beloved bass in years. They stopped letting me obtain memoirs from home. Like I'm really going to try and kill someone with my bass. Look out motherfuckers, Wentz has a goddamn bass guitar.

I also like to think about music. Real, proper music. Metallica, Queen, Bowie, The Beatles, AC/DC. All the good stuff. Metallica was like a suit of armour for me. A way to stop people from getting to my head with their mind games and tricks. Enter Sandman, Wherever I May Roam.. Metallica will always hold a place in my heart.

Or, they would. But I'm told that I'm too heartless to like anything.

Oh well. Fuck them.

They'll be the first to pay.