my life is just a light.
The music studio was entering what could be termed a drowning period, almost with desperation. The last recording hours, coupled with accumulated fatigue, signaled that nobody was willing to endure further. Between one frustration and another, everyone's reactions became more desperate, intense, and potent.
-The atmosphere is a bit heavy, - said Agustina, feeling the steaming heat of the room. But she was so happy that she forgot the stress of over ten hours of recording. They had been going for two consecutive days, and the last day was dragging on under the insistence of the music producers to make a more musical recording, guided by a joint recording, at least of the best songs.
-A bit, - said Billy, his throat hurting. The ice he held in his hand, along with the honey-infused herbal tea he sipped to refresh his voice, offered some relief. The addition of a bassist to the musicians to play a few chords meant they must be paying well to endure such crap, Billy thought, as he took a deep breath after two days of non-stop singing.
-Your throat hurts a lot. I'll buy some sea salt; we'll do nebulization and salt gargles so that the pain doesn't linger for too long, - Agustina said, adjusting her bag.
Billy stopped her. - Stay. -
-Now, my little one, come, let Mama help you, let her pamper you. You know, even though we didn't have time to celebrate your birthday, and Jerry's denial of letting you eat chocolates because they're not throat-friendly, I thought of bringing your favorite food, a delicious chicken and spinach lasagna and lemon dessert, - said Agustina.
-I've liked your songs, and I'm very intrigued by the joyful chants you make, although the last one you belted out scared me a bit, - said Agustina, taking notes of Billy's vocals, like formidable explosions of power.
The band behind Billy had to stay strong, playing over and over, following Billy's lead. Billy slept on his mother's lap while she cradled his head, paying close attention to her son's voice, which echoed through the room, curious and tranquil, she bought some new rock albums, she liked the old authors, but the new ones weren't that bad. With her impartial view, her son was the best rock singer she had heard; he was the best, undoubtedly. The others were just ordinary folks doing playback.
-Wake up, kid, we need to do the final take. I think we're all tired, and the last song has given us some trouble, - said Jerry Wexler.
-I'm awake, old man, - said Billy.
Jerry did a quick turn. - In five minutes, we started. Rest up; you have enough time to stretch, and grab something to eat or drink. The next one is the last for today, and at least until this little one visits us again, - Jerry announced.
Billy psyched himself up to sing the next song; luckily, it demanded vocal prowess, but not excessively, just a few high notes that could be managed with some work.
-I'm hungry! - said Billy.
-Then, I heard it's bad to sing before eating; preparing a meal may not be healthy, - Agustina responded to the medical demands.
-Come on, Mom, now I feel like having some water; maybe some of that pasta you made! It was delicious! I prefer the tomato and meat empanadas you made last Saturday, - said Billy, stretching.
-Next time. Lately, I haven't had time to cook, - Agustina said, feeling disheartened, walking to the door. If the boy wanted to eat, it was because he was hungry, and working on a full stomach was a bad idea.
Sugar Egg grabbed a beer while the hired bassist smoked a cigarette in the convenience store next door. Both rested from the music's rhythm. Sugar Egg was saying something to Spencer, who nodded appreciatively, which made Billy chuckle. Billy grabbed a bottle of cold water; the pasta had a spicy flavor because of the tomato and hot sauce.
-The only thing that bothers me is that they're too old for you, - said Agustina, facing the television.
-Mother, that's the least of my concerns. Many of them are replaceable extras, except for Spencer, to whom I owe a debt. They are all expendable. For now, all I care about is recording the songs and finishing high school. There's a home study program, a bit more expensive than some, but there are state-certified teachers, and I can take exams. I only need a minimum to graduate, and, well, the diploma comes with another exam, but as long as my SAT and my past classes exceed the minimum of 6.5, I can graduate, - said Billy.
Agustina looked closely at her son.ย - You've matured. I support you studying at home, but promise me you'll graduate. Now I'm fully confident that you won't need me to live. -
The next song is "Teenager" by black paradise for all over.
โฆ
๐ต๐ถ๐ถ๐ต
They're gonna clean up your looks
With all the lies in the books
To make a citizen out of you
Because they sleep with a gun
And keep an eye on you, son
So they can watch all the things you do
Because the drugs never work
They're gonna give you a smirk'
Cause they got methods of keeping you clean
They're gonna rip up your heads
Your aspirations to shreds
Another cog in the murder machine
๐ต๐ถ๐ถ๐ต
โฆ.
Of all the songs, this one was the most irreverent, carrying poetic content about how people's dark hearts were nurtured for a dawn of madness. The repression of life was hidden behind the mask of sense, an integrity that thrilled people as a protest against social neglect.
Every time Billy sang, listened to, or played it, it was about a day conjuring good takes and good songs, and contrary to stories, one felt joy. Because it wasn't depressive; it was an anthem against the decency of young people seeking the so-called freedom of life.
โฆ
๐ต๐ถ๐ถ๐ต
They said, "All teenagers scare the livin' shit out of me"
They could care less as long as someone bleed
So darken your clothes, or strike a violent pose
Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not The boys and girls in the clique
The awful names that they stick
You're never gonna fit in much, kid
But if you're troubled and hurt
What you got under your shirt
Will make them pay for the things that they did
๐ต๐ถ๐ถ๐ต
โฆ
Agustina frowned at the mentions of her father, though Billy said it was his allegory, hopeful. The magnificence of the song was the powerful chorus Billy depicted, of a group of rebels dancing, whining, and laughing repeatedly, while everyone danced to and from. Even the animals followed suit, all in black and white.
โฆ
๐ต๐ถ๐ถ๐ต
They said, "All teenagers scare the livin' shit out of me"
They could care less as long as someone'll bleed
So darken your clothes, or strike a violent pose
Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not me
Oh, yeah!
They said, "All teenagers scare the livin' shit out of me"
They could care less as long as someone'll bleed
So darken your clothes, or strike a violent pose
Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not me
๐ต๐ถ๐ถ๐ต
โฆ
He continued to recommend the anthem, pushing to rationalize life as a forceful thrust against what bothered, like a colorful star illuminating those who needed to awaken as if the future were relieving itself. A new idea, the future of all youth.
โฆ
๐ต๐ถ๐ถ๐ต
All together now!"Teenagers scare the livin' shit out of me"They could care less as long as someone bleedSo darken your clothes, or strike a violent pose
Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not me
"Teenagers scare the livin' shit out of me"They could care less as long as someone'll bleedSo darken your clothes, or strike a violent poseMaybe they'll leave you alone, but not me.
๐ต๐ถ๐ถ๐ต
โฆ
Billy's voice began to sound clearer, stronger, like a limit that happened suddenly, a great song that silenced, like a cloud that wouldn't clear the sky.
Status. โ
Billy Carson.
Singing: (1/160) Level 5: Music Prodigy: Your singing surpasses the limit of ordinary people.
Piano: (6/20) Level 2. Novice
Guitar: (17/20) Level 2. Novice
Rating: Global.
2'345.340/8,340.000
Numbers: Followers.
19,993.
Songs:
Like Stone. Celebrate Lifeโฆ Love yourself. Enemy. Seven Nation Army โ White Stripes Somewhere Only We Know โ Keane. Clint Eastwood โ Gorillaz. Jimmy World โ The Middle. Can't Stop โ Red Hot Chili Peppers. Teenager โ My Chemical Romance. Chop Suey! โ System of a Down. Be Yourself โ Audioslave In Too Deep โ Sum 41.
...
๐ต๐ถ๐ถ๐ต
hey said, "All teenagers scare the livin' shit out of me"
They could care less as long as someone'll bleed
So darken your clothes, or strike a violent pose
Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not meย
The boys and girls in the clique
The awful names that they stick
You're never gonna fit in much, kid
But if you're troubled and hurt
What you got under your shirt
Will make them pay for the things that they did They said,
"All teenagers scare the livin' shit out of me"
They could care less as long as someone'll bleed
So darken your clothes, or strike a violent pose
Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not me
๐ต๐ถ๐ถ๐ต
โฆ
-I like this song, another hit, - said Jerry Wrexler, dancing to the powerful beginning of the song, which sparkled with hope.
-Yes, if he performs this at a concert, it's very likely to drive the crowd crazy. The Vans Warped Tour is in October and November. We'll at least enter the last two dates. Our best opportunities are that concert and, well, maybe, based on the success of the album, some renowned artist might let him be their opening act, - said Jerry Wexler.
โฆ
๐ต๐ถ๐ถ๐ต
Oh, yeah!ย They said, "All teenagers scare the livin' shit out of me"
They could care less as long as someone'll bleed
So darken your clothes, or strike a violent pose
Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not me All together now!
"Teenagers scare the livin' shit out of me"
They could care less as long as someone'll bleed
So darken your clothes, or strike a violent pose
Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not me
ย "Teenagers scare the livin' shit out of me"
They could care less as long as someone'll bleed
So darken your clothes, or strike a violent pose
Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not me
๐ต๐ถ๐ถ๐ต
โฆ
Billy finished with a smile on his face.
---