Lyrics Artists add. Dear Your Holiness song meanings. Add Your Thoughts 19 Comments. General Comment As I grew older and saw more of the world and learned more, I realized God doesn't exist to each their own views. I was raised Catholic and to me this was a major shock to the way I thought.
I was used to praying and talking to God, and to someone who has previously talked to God, talking directly to him even if you don't believe in him comes naturally. I believe Anthony has made it very clear in his songs, especially this one, that he does not believe in God whatsoever.
Sure he doesn't come out and say it because Christians judge atheists negatively I don't even like that word "atheist". No Replies Log in to reply. There was an error. General Comment i think its about a guy questioning if there is a god or not loadertoad on February 05, Link.
Saturday 31 July Sunday 1 August Monday 2 August Tuesday 3 August Wednesday 4 August Thursday 5 August Friday 6 August Saturday 7 August Sunday 8 August Monday 9 August Tuesday 10 August Wednesday 11 August Thursday 12 August Friday 13 August Saturday 14 August Sunday 15 August Monday 16 August Tuesday 17 August Wednesday 18 August Thursday 19 August Friday 20 August Saturday 21 August Sunday 22 August Monday 23 August Tuesday 24 August Wednesday 25 August Thursday 26 August Friday 27 August Saturday 28 August Sunday 29 August Monday 30 August Tuesday 31 August Wednesday 1 September Thursday 2 September Friday 3 September Saturday 4 September Sunday 5 September Monday 6 September Tuesday 7 September Wednesday 8 September Thursday 9 September Friday 10 September Saturday 11 September Sunday 12 September Monday 13 September Tuesday 14 September Wednesday 15 September Thursday 16 September Friday 17 September Saturday 18 September Sunday 19 September Monday 20 September Tuesday 21 September Wednesday 22 September Thursday 23 September Friday 24 September Saturday 25 September Sunday 26 September Monday 27 September Tuesday 28 September Wednesday 29 September Thursday 30 September Friday 1 October Saturday 2 October Sunday 3 October Monday 4 October Tuesday 5 October Wednesday 6 October Thursday 7 October Friday 8 October Saturday 9 October Sunday 10 October Monday 11 October Besides, he had somewhere to be tonight.
He slid his thumb across the screen without bothering to look down at it. A soft, worried sigh flittered through the line, characteristic of James Potter and his infamous worry. It still sounded concerned.
He stifled the rolling of his eyes, trying not to remember the saintly act his parents put on every Sunday morning in this very building. Just as he passed the open doors of the cathedral, lingering at the welcoming breeze of cool air drifting from inside, a contrast to the stifling summer heat outside, he heard an uncanny, familiar melody moving through the stillness.
In his confusion, he paused, focused solely on where the hell he knew that refrain from, the phone in his hand drifting inattentively down to his side, James still talking. It was whistling. A single person whistling from within the building, the echo of that song reverberating against the soaring vaulted ceilings.
Without will or intent, he moved through the breach of the doors until his battered leather boots fell upon plush, green carpeting, and his pale skin was bathed in the colours of colossal stained-glass windows. The song continued, though no vocalist was in view. Quickly, he brought the phone fully back to his ear, blinking rapidly, as if suddenly awoken from a bizarre dream.
Ever since Sirius had moved in with him at sixteen, James Potter had sheltered Sirius. Not for this. His father meant nothing to him. As he started on his journey again, he made it a total of three steps before he stopped cold, brows furrowed deeply as he backpedaled, staring into the empty church.
The melody had stopped. And still , not a single human being in sight. It took him several long seconds of visually sweeping the interior of the building, so sure that he had heard that song. The tune began to burrow into his skull. With a hazy shake of his head, he returned on his path to his car, making it all the way around the corner and down the street before the realization struck.
It was a tune he knew. One he knew well. With a wildly overcompensating grin, Sirius emptied his whiskey tumbler and set it on the bar, motioning for the bartender to fill it again.
How many whiskeys was that? I can flag a hot bloke by voice alone. Loosening his face into a fond smile, James argued playfully.
The first time Lily sang to me, I proposed. Ten quid says the bass player of the next band is a smokeshow. Mark Hoppus, blink Jepha Howard, The Used. Sam Kiszka, Greta Van Fleet. Red Hot Chili Peppers. Total smokeshow.
Even his noticeably dark hair was tucked away underneath a slouchy, maroon knit cap that hung down the back of his neck. The guy in disguise picked up a six-string bass guitar, plucking it effortlessly to provide a succession of low, as-yet-unamplified notes that were strung together impressively quickly.
With an arrogantly raised brow, Sirius turned to James as if to show that his point had been proven. The platinum-blonde girl with the septum ring adjusted the mic stand closer to her burgundy-stained lips, letting her candy-apple-red guitar hang casually from one shoulder, parallel to the hem of her plaid miniskirt.
For a while, he tried to watch the way this bloke moved — the way he pulled up the long neck of his bass when he hit a specifically deliberate chord, his arm drawn back entirely behind his head in a way that inadvertently showcased all the holes in his careworn green and black plaid overshirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow to flaunt his elaborate, impressive tattoos.
Or sometimes when he was playing a slower sequence, how he bent low to the floor, the floral strap of his matte-black Rickenbacker bass hanging precariously from the back of his neck, his long, tattooed arms making up the distance. In between songs, he would kneel to fiddle with his pedal and Sirius would lean in for a better look, but it made no difference. The blurry vision from his black eye made no difference. This guy wanted to be unseen. Eventually, when the flashing lights and the excessive smoke from the fog machine grew too much for his already throbbing head, Sirius closed his eyes.
But he continued to listen, the sharp vocal tone of the blonde singer with the septum ring totally enamoring while still significantly worsening his headache.
Every now and then he would open his eyes just to watch the mesmerizing movements of the talented drummer with the multicoloured braids coiled up into a flawless knot on the top of her head with a blue plaid bandana tied just off center around her forehead. Her stick twirling alone was wicked. But his attention, of course, always moved back to the mysterious bass player who kept his face covered.
Every time he leaned forward to sing backup vocals on his mic, Sirius closed his eyes again, straining to pick out that voice, almost as low and melodious as his complicated basslines. Just as Sirius was about to agree — hot bass player aside, their music was fucking mental and Sirius was absolutely in love with their classic pop punk sound, so he was definitely going to buy a goddamn T-shirt and follow every single one of their social media accounts — the next song started, and it sounded a little different than their previous ones.
Sirius found himself swallowing. He looked up just in time to see his hot bass player lean heavily into the mic, his fingers still moving in dedication, but looking like it took no effort on his part at all. And when this mystery man began to sing, his voice and inflection perfectly clear despite the mask covering his lips, Sirius went still.
There was almost a laugh in his voice as he sang, and he turned his head, as if to look back at the girl on drums, who grinned wildly at him while keeping a precise beat. In perfect time, they all went back to playing their respective instruments in the middle of that verse, without losing their harmony, and Sirius lost all function in breathing or thought, absolutely floored at their impeccable synchronicity with each other.
Maybe if you fool the best of them, the rest will come around. As the crowd cheered Sirius included, louder than most with his wolf whistle, which he thought drew the attention of the subject of his affection , the blonde thanked the audience again, and they traded the stage with the next band.
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