I have a grandfather clock in my front room that my mother-in-law bought at the closing sale in 2000. It’s made of oak, about 6’5" tall, with a glass panel door. There are three weights, two for the chimes and one for the main clock. All the inner parts are brass. The clock seems to be fully functional, with a few issues of setting it (it slows down quite a bit when left alone for too long). It also has a chime function which you can set by moving a lever from silent to chime. My problem is with the day/night function: above the clock, there is a time of day meter, which can go from nighttime to daytime, and (using some obscure number system) will tell you the fullness of the moon. Although I’ve tried numerous things, my fiance and I can’t seem to make the daytime function change from nighttime back to daytime. No matter what time it’s set at, we only see the night. Does anyone know how I can fix this and return our clock to its original setting with the daytime function? We would appreciate it very much, as the clock and our piano are very old and very dear to our hearts (we are both musicians, and I wind the clock like…well, clockwork!)

Well, i recently posted a short story on yahoo answers to get feed back…it was brutal. :"( anyways i’m writing a novel and i wanted to know what you thought of my writing style. this isnt from my story i just made it up. an i apolgize for any words that i spelt wrong. spelling check kinda stops working after so many words. please dont kill me if my words are crappy in spelling. Thanks. btw this is a fantasy fiction paragraph.

The rain was pouring outside, making the sky a deep blotchy gray. soft crackling lightning pierced the sky every now and then for a few split seconds, making Daren jump a little every time it struck the inky sky. it had only been a week sense he had moved to the islands for a simple vacation, and almost the entire time it had been cursed with the water that infinitely fell from the sky. the first day he had arrived, the land was beautiful and lush with life.

Daren looked out from the porch where he was seated to see the trees swaying in the heavy rain and wind; the vast empty land padded down by water. "It’s not always like this." A voice from behind him chimed. Jill walked up beside him and folded her arms in front of her. "You usually see people golfing out there. and most of the tourists would be at the would be at the beach." She laughed to herself. "I guess you bring bad luck with you, uh?" Daren got up from his seat and stretched. "That’s real funny…because it’s true. Well we can do other things besides watching the rain, right?"

Jill’s eyes lifted and her mouth opened with enthusiasm. "Oh! Yeah sure. I’ll take you the my grand pappies store. its in the center of town, but that shouldn’t be a problem. Here, I’ll take you." Jill lived on these islands, so her knowledge was very useful to Daren. They had known each other in highschool back in America. When he had heard that she was moving out, he told himself that he would visit her once a year for his vacation.

Jill hovered the umbrella over the both of them as they quickly walked to the side shop. "Crazy rain, right?" A friendly stranger yelled out to them from under his rain coat. Daren opened the door for Jill as they entered into the shop.

The smell was amazing. Different smells of herbs, and sweet flowers drifted to Daren’s nose; he tried to stay focused on Jill even when his mind began to wonder away, off with the scents of the shop.

"Well hello!" An old voice boomed from the back of the antinque store. Jill waved quickly back at her excited grandfather with a huge grin on her face as she made her way twords him. Daren followed her and tried not to knock over anything; the place was literraly stuffed with odd objects.

"How are you, J?" Her grandfather embraced her warmly over the counter. "I’m good, Pappie! You know Daren? Right?" She gestured to her friend. Daren reached his hand out. "It’s a pleasure to meet. Your grand daughter is something else." He smiled at Jill, who was glaring at him playfully.

Jill and her grandfather began to talk about who-knew-what, which didn’t concern Daren in anyway, so he began to explore the treasures in the shop. An odd tea cup, a shipped up glass dog, an angel playing the harp. They were all odd in their own special way.

As he continued, he came upon a strange box. He picked up slowly, reasurring himself that it wouldn’t explode or desenegrate, and began to examine it carefully. A handle was latched to the side. he turned it round and round untill it stiffened and couldn’t be turned any longer. he let go.

The sound around the room came to an immediate hush; the constant chatter of Jill and her pappie, the always ticking clock, it all came to silence. The only sound came from the box. A simple, melancholy tune emitted from it slowly. it seemed to be a lullaby.

The room was still. The rain outside lay frozen and the clock’s hands stood still. A black hooded man stood in front of Daren, his face was covered by his hood. "You’ve finally awakened us…Daren." He lifted his hand, a stop watch lay in it ticking away unlike the clock that Pappie had hanging on his shop wall. "You have five hundred hours, Daren…"

The room flashed back to life. The once silent rain once again began to pour and a flash of enraged lighting tour up the sky. "Five hundred hours…?"
oh, and give your honest opinion. is it really boring? is it too descriptive? am i an amateur? thanks
yeah i knew that it was dull for the beginning. i think most things are. i dont know how i could make it more entertaining in the beginning. any suggestions?

i am on a tight budget currently because im having trouble finding a job . i want to make something creative. last year i made wind chimes, the year before i got crystals and glass animals and wallpaper and sand rocks and picture frames and made little displays to hang on the wall . any good creative ideas? (:

Can a wind chime twinkle quietly. But when i say twinkle i mean as in the noise a wind chime makes?

Also is this a good description?

I watched as the enchanting wind chime swung gently in the soft breeze of the day, making it twinkle quietly. It was a myriad of complex patterns and shapes, intertwined with pieces of blue glass, the refined cut making the piece shimmer as it caught the light of the sun, reflecting a rainbow of lapis lazuli, azure and turquoise mirroring delicately the gentle waves of the sea.

And then later on a little after the girl examines the wind chime she goes to leave (The wind chime is at a shop doorway) it’ll say this…

I left my treasured discovery, it’s beauty completely hidden among the worthless junk inhabiting the shop, a true diamond in the rough.

Is this good or should i change it a bit? I know it’s a big description for just a wind chime but the girl in my story is trying to show how such simple things can still be beautiful.

Thank you in advance.
And do i write like a 12 or something? Because my friend told me i do. I’m nearing 15 though, so it’s a bit worrying if i do..

I design very unique jewelry, window art, candles, vases,wind chimes etc… using sea glass from Israel and Eygpt. The pieces are quite colorful and of course made with recycled glass. I also charge a very fair price for my pieces. I do know about Etsy(craft site) but am looking for a place that specilizes in glass creations. I also know about Ebay and Craigs List. I would also be open to nice stores.

It was a crisp, clear, January morning when the villagers of Benton spotted him.

He was alone, his hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers, his black coat buttoned up to his neck. His face was long, and narrow, his copper-colored hair getting tousled with each gust of the bitter wind. Fear lurked behind sparkling green eyes that contrasted against a sprinkle of faded freckles across his nose. He stepped lightly through the un-plowed city streets; his pair of highly priced winter boots, laced up neatly over his feet, making the slightest crunching sound with every step he took through the snow that had fallen the night before.

The people of Benton did not often walk the streets alone. The town was bursting at the seams with young families and children. But because of the very expensive university located a few miles away, they were used to young, arrogant college students strutting through the city as if it belonged to them. The townspeople barely lifted their eyes to such people nowadays, simply deciding to ignore them.

However, this man seemed oddly out of place to those who gave him more then a once-over glance. He was handsome, but his sunken cheeks were gaunt and shallow as if he had experienced many troubles throughout his young life. His eyes darted every which way, and the villagers who were slightly more observant noticed easily that the collar pressed up against his neck was not only to shield himself against the winter air, but to hide his unfamiliar face from those around him.

The man walked, as nonchalantly as he could, past an old bookstore, a small but busy little market, a toy store decorated in greens and reds for the Holidays, a movie theater, a few apartments, and a flower shop. His eyebrows threaded together just slightly as he approached the end of the road, as he had not yet found whatever it was he was searching for.

Suddenly, he turned to his left, his eyes running over an old, dark coffee shop with only a handful of costumers inside. He gave a quick glance over his shoulder, his lips tightening just a tad as he proceeded towards the entrance of the little shop.

A bell chimed as he swung the door open, a gust of hot air spilling over his face. He stepped inside, and as his eyes adjusted to the different light, he listened to the calming sound of china getting stacked behind the counters, the low hum of the costumers’ voices, and a loud ancient-looking TV in the corner set on a News station. He blinked a few times, his numb fingers fumbling to unbutton his jacket.

His gaze swept over the people of the shop. A few teenagers were sitting on the couches, sipping hot chocolate and laughing. An older couple, most likely grandparents, were sitting at one of the round tables reading the paper. A middle-aged man was working behind the counter, using a rag to clean a mug. A father and his son sat on the tall barstools near the counter, their mittens resting on an empty seat beside them.

Near the corner, a long window looked out at the streets. An inviting “open” sign and backwards writing on the glass spelled out the name of the place. A few more round tables were also situated near the window.

At the farthest table, sat a girl.

The man near the door stood frozen, his gaze now locked to her face.

She was daydreaming, her chin rested in her hands, elbows mounted on the table, her eyes squinted and a little unfocused. Her head was turned towards the window, peering out towards a group of children playing in the snow, the light shining delicately across her face.
The man was perplexed at first, for this did not look like the person he had expected to see. He had expected a straggly, dirty woman, wearing tattered black clothes, dark finger polish painted over her already unhealthy nails, her exhausted, bloodshot eyes hidden behind a curtain of greasy red hair and gothic-inspired makeup, and a too-thin, frighteningly frail body. He had expected to see a girl who drew everyone away, but instead, he was faced with a woman so breathtakingly beautiful that he could not keep his eyes off her.
The first thing he noticed was her face. For once, he was able to see it. In place of stringy, thin locks, the woman now styled soft, lightly colored red hair that cascaded out of her headband and down her shoulders. Her dark blue eyes were so much prettier now that they were not smudged with black charcoal makeup. Her skin had always been pale, but he could tell immediately how much healthier it looked. Instead of patches of dark skin here and there, a warm, pearly-white color glowed evenly from every pore. Her usually colorless mouth was somehow replaced with full, pink lips.
The most surprising thing – to someone who hadn’t known her as well as the man did – was probably her wardrobe. She was wearing a casual, long-sleeved blue t-shirt with a lengthy, homemade white scarf and nicely fitting black corduroys. Second hand black snow boots were strapped onto her feet underneath the table. A gray winter coat hung loosely on the chair behind her, and white mittens that matched the scarf were resting on the tabletop.

The man realized he had not yet breathed, he had been so amazed. He took a long, deep breath, his eyes never leaving the woman.

“Sir? Would you like a cup of coffee?” the worker behind the counter asked, looking curiously at the frozen man. The man curtly shook his head, and then realizing the rudeness of the gesture, added, “No thank you, not now,” and the worker returned to cleaning the mug.
The exchange between the two men had stirred the woman in the corner from her daydream, and her eyes flicked away from the window and around the room. She sat up, straightening her body and letting her hands fall to her lap. Her round eyes suddenly found the man’s.

Yes, it really was her. His heart swelled with joy. How could it be? Was it really possible that the drugged up girl he had used to know was now so… clean? Her beauty was memorizing – he never wanted to look away. He smiled dazzling at her, a smile that would have made any sane woman blush. But a sad, almost nostalgic expression never left the girl’s face.
Her hand made the slightest movement in her lap, and the man’s gaze was broken. He looked down at her hands, and his mouth opened just a little. A gasp escaped his lips and as soon as his eyes made since of what he was seeing, he was dizzy with pain – he felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. Kicked him in the back. Slapped him in the face. He felt his swelling heart shattering to pieces.

The woman’s hands were resting at the bottom of an enormous sized, well-rounded bump protruding out of her belly.

The man’s straight posture faltered with utter, horrifying surprise, and his shoulders suddenly sagged along with the rest of him.

The woman, who had been watching every moment of his awful realization, bit her lip, her eyes filling with tears. A shudder ran through her body, and her head collapsed into her hands. The man could not hear it, but he knew she was weeping.
Although moving was quite difficult, as his limbs were shaking, he hurried over to her side without hesitation. He dragged the empty chair on the other side of the table towards her and sat down into it. He nervously reached out and touched the woman’s shoulders. Before he knew it, she had fallen forward into his arms, sobbing. With a shaking hand he stroked her hair, his eyes wide with complete fear.

“Oh, Danny…” she clutched at his jacket.

He couldn’t bring himself to say anything but gentle shhhh’s. After his mind stopped spinning enough for him to take control of his voice, he leaned toward her and whispered,

“Is it… mine?”

She nodded weakly into his chest, and the man’s eyes stung with bitter tears.

“Henrietta… Why – Why didn’t you tell me? When did you find out?” He was trying to be comforting, but his voice came out like ice. He mentally counted back the months.
She sat back in her chair, and Daniel released her. She wiped her eyes with the blue sleeve of her shirt. Even when crying, with her eyes red and swollen, she still looked prettier then Daniel had ever seen her before.

Her lip quivered. “I found out a few weeks after we broke up. And… I tried… I – I tried to call you, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it, Daniel,” she paused to search through his eyes. She blinked and more tears dripped down her face. “You’re mad at me.”

Daniel took a deep breath, his heart racing. He looked at her hard in the eyes. “I’m not mad at you. This is my fault. I’m just…” it took a long time for him to think of the right word. It was as if his brain and mouth weren’t even connected anymore. “…Surprised.”

The two sat in silence for a while. One in complete shock, the other in a horrible, self-conscience state. Daniel suddenly noticed her insecurity, and he grabbed one of her hands.
“Henrietta… You are so beautiful,” he gulped back tears. “You’re… sober?”

She nodded. “Once I found out I was pregnant, I stopped. Everything.”

“That mustn’t have been easy.”

“It wasn’t as hard as I would have thought. When you have a reason, a real reason…” She looked back at the children outside. “Nothing else matters.”

Daniel followed her gaze outside. “Do you live here now? Benton?”

She again nodded. “My parents kicked me out of the house when I started showing. I had been trying to keep it a secret while I tried to figure out what to do… My aunt lives here. She’s a professor at the university. She took me in.”

Henrietta’s watery eyes filled with gratitude.

Daniel shook his head. “Henrietta, if only I had known sooner… I could have found a place for you to stay, with me, with my family…”

The woman’s eyes darkened. “That – That wouldn’t have worked.” She said simply, and Daniel realized how right she was. His family hated her – no, detested her.

“When are you due?”
Her eyes softened immediately, her hands subconsciously touching her stomach. “A month.”

This was another blow for Daniel. He tried not to act shocked, but it was all over his face… Henrietta somehow willed away the tears, being strong for the both of them.

“What is it?” He asked, quieter then anything else he had said that day.

Henrietta smiled sadly. “A girl.”

When the words left her lips, the world went silent. Daniel’s mind was consumed by the realness of the situation. It wasn’t a dream, no, it was realer then reality itself… The seriousness of the situation flooded his mind. He was going to be a father. A baby girl… His baby girl… Was going to be born in a month. Just one month.

“Can I?” He asked as if in a dream, his voice cracking, gesturing with his hands to touch her stomach. She nodded, and he carefully placed one of his palms over her expanding torso. With his gentle touch came a fluttering kick in response, confirming the young life within.
At this, Daniel broke into tears. He covered his eyes with a single hand and cried.

Henrietta pulled him towards her, and his already limp head fell towards her blossoming stomach. She placed her hands comfortingly around him, leaning her head against his. He felt her shaking, too. She had also succumbed to tears.

“I’m with you now,” he said quietly through quiet sobs, both to the baby and its mother. “I’m not gonna leave you. We’re going to find a way to make this work. I’ll do anything. Anything. I promise.”
A little while longer, the man needed to leave. Before he did, he stood up and hugged the woman with more love then he had ever felt before. Before now, he hadn’t known what love was… He thought he had loved the girl who stood before him, now a woman, but all he had felt then was lust and desire. Now he could truly see what an amazing, courageous person she had turned into, the sacrifice she was making. He could feel the shattered pieces of his heart fixing themselves, with more strength then ever. He was scared to death, yes, but that didn’t matter… He knew he would do anything.

He forced himself to exit the shop and walk back where he had come.

******************************
*******************************************

It was a crisp, clear, January morning when the villagers of Benton spotted him. He was alone, his hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers, his black coat buttoned up to his neck. His face was long, and narrow, his copper-colored hair getting tousled with each gust of the bitter wind. Fear lurked behind sparkling green eyes that contrasted against a sprinkle of faded freckles across his nose. But there was something else, now, too… The people who looked were not quite sure of what it was. A mixture of hope, and faith, and determination and courage. Love, but sadness also, deep, deep sadness…

He stepped lightly through the un-plowed city streets; his pair of highly priced winter boots, laced up neatly over his feet, making the slightest crunching sound with every step he took through the snow that had fallen the night before.

The people of Benton did not often walk the streets alone…
OKAY IM DONE. SORRY IT WAS LONGER THEN I EXPECTED… THANKS EVERYONE FOR YOUR ANSWERS
I just read it over again and it’s pretty bad, haha it needs a lot of work but your feedback would be great!

When i was younger i saw this movie, it had a little girl and a dog. and there was this old lady who was blind, i think she was african american? and she had glass bottles tied to tree branches and they’d sway in the breeze and make like a giant wind chime.
also, there were these old candies, these lozenges, but i don’t remember what they did.
sorry this is vague, any help would be awesome! thanks!
ahhh! winn-dixie that’s right! thanks!

English person. I can spell. Ta.

I was walking home at night, the lamps around me flickering, my breath steaming ahead of me. I turned to walk through the park. It was autumn, so all of the trees were a honey golden colour. Occasionally, a drop of honey would fall off the tree, and make a crunching noise under my feet, which were bare, my toes painted black. I was wearing a pair of black denim jeans, and a neon green t-shirt with a black glittered skull on it, and lots of silver bangles that clanked as I walked along, sounding like wind chimes. One of the lights blew a bulb behind me, and my heart picked up pace. So did my feet.

I was completely overwhelmed by a sense of intense fear, as I saw that the gate was locked, and on the other side, was a lifeless me on the floor. I pulled at the gate noisily. I tried to scream, but my breath was cut short, as I heard a hiss behind me. I slowly turned, the tears trickling down my cheeks, and on to the cold, concrete ground. There was nothing there though; there was nothing there at all. I started to hyperventilate then, and decided that it would be best if I went back out the other side, and went round the long way. I sprinted, my eyes darting back and forth from tree to tree, just in case anything was lurking there.

The other gate was now locked, too, and it seemed to be becoming colder by the minute, my breath becoming clearer, the park’s lights blowing out one by one, the glass around the bulbs shattering. I sat down, holding my knees, sobbing quietly. I heard another hiss. When I looked around, I saw a tall, lean figure standing near a bench. I could not see properly, only the light of the moon and stars enabling me to see at all. As I cautiously walked closer, he said my name. I froze. It was definitely a boy, no older than seventeen with black hair – covering half of his, strange, red, and catlike eyes. He hissed once more. His tongue was thin and pointed his teeth sharp.
Then, he pounced.

I’m ENGLISH. It’s spelt right, trust me.

1.THE BOY.

I was walking home at night, the lamps around me flickering, my breath steaming ahead of me. I turned to walk through the park. It was autumn, so all of the trees were a honey golden colour. Occasionally, a drop of honey would fall off the tree, and make a crunching noise under my feet, which were bare, my toes painted black. I was wearing a pair of black denim jeans, and a neon green t-shirt with a black glittered skull on it, and lots of silver bangles that clanked as I walked along, sounding like wind chimes. One of the lights blew a bulb behind me, and my heart picked up pace. So did my feet.

I was completely overwhelmed by a sense of intense fear, as I saw that the gate was locked, and on the other side, was a lifeless me on the floor. I pulled at the gate noisily. I tried to scream, but my breath was cut short, as I heard a hiss behind me. I slowly turned, the tears trickling down my cheeks, and on to the cold, concrete ground. There was nothing there though; there was nothing there at all. I started to hyperventilate then, and decided that it would be best if I went back out the other side, and went round the long way. I sprinted, my eyes darting back and forth from tree to tree, just in case anything was lurking there.

The other gate was now locked, too, and it seemed to be becoming colder by the minute, my breath becoming clearer, the park’s lights blowing out one by one, the glass around the bulbs shattering. I sat down, holding my knees, sobbing quietly. I heard another hiss. When I looked around, I saw a tall, lean figure standing near a bench. I could not see properly, only the light of the moon and stars enabling me to see at all. As I cautiously walked closer, he said my name. I froze. It was definitely a boy, no older than seventeen with black hair – covering half of his, strange, red, and catlike eyes. He hissed once more. His tongue was thin and pointed his teeth sharp.
Then, he pounced.

I awoke on a pile of black ashes. I sat up, my head spinning. What had happened? I wasn’t supposed to be here. I had heard about this place. It used to be full of mortals, until one fallen angel, vampires, and wolves had wiped out a small quantity of the human race (up to now). Even children. I looked up to the sky, which was full of black snow. I knew better than to think it was just snow. The little fragments swirling in the wind were ashes, and the scarlet liquid on the floor, was blood.

I don’t know what is going on. Recently i have been hearing sounds, like wind chimes and people tapping wine glasses that are vivid. i also have severe mood swings and it takes all my strength to act happy at school so no one will notice. i have short bursts of anorexia and sometimes they last for days. help? what is going on?

It’s shaped like a snow globe with no bottom and is honey-colored. The wind chimes hang beneath it and it has been there for two years but just recently they have started lingering around it, even when it rains they don’t budge. We’re not trying to get rid of them – we just find it strange?

After the initial explosion,
landscape littered with tears,
worded echoes of shrapnel,
blooded daggers pulled from
their new found sheaths,

that time of silence,
louder than the pre-fight
freight train, with it’s
ear numbing persistence
demanding the denying
of any semblance of self.

self worth
self control
self motivation
self esteem
self identity

Remember the moment
on the tracks,
steel and eternal,
before the impact.
The light shining off
the grounded beams
leading left and right,
south and north,
here to there,
a parallel map of
what was leading into
what could be.

Envision the landscape
spanning east and west,
up and down, dotted
with trees, buildings,
signs, proof of life.

Reach between the ties
and pick up the bits
of jagged, broken glass, misted
muted colors of calm;
blue, green, white, brown,
now to be pocketed.

Someday, these may end up
in a mason jar on an end table,
pieces of a peace;
a beautiful collection,
with a hazy
outline of dust along
it’s edge, beside an incense
burner. Nearby, the comfortable
red couch sits under the
window, where wind chimes
lead into reveries,
proving life goes on,
and peaces can be
found
anywhere.

my mom LOVES coffee, candles, reed diffusers, bath stuff, anything i make, etc. lol i decided i was getting her her fave coffee, and making her bath basket. any other ideas???

oh and gardening, we are working on that together, an indoor garden in this coffee table, it had great ventilation, and is all glass, and hollow inside, we used to have fish in there, then turtles, now we want something easier, we decided on a garden! i planted some flowers, but may need more XD that’s an idea. any flowers you can think of?

i’m just 13, no online shopping for minors specially since i dont gotsta credit card >.<

i guess all moms like the same things to an extent. she also had an antique lighter/ pipe, ciggarette dispenser collection, doubt i can buy any of that though. and she collects roosters in the kitchen (she grew up with them) not over the top, just her and there.

so craft ideas too? i VERY crafty. i love painting… but others are fine too! i already bought 2 stepping stone kits to make for her

REMEMBER NO ONLINE SHOPPING! IVE POSTED THIS QUESTION TWICE BEFORE NOW, AND GOT 2 ANSWERS, BOTH WERE ONLINE SHOPPING!!!!!

she hates feet, no pedicures, foot massages etc. she already has a spa gift certificate, mine would be useless, and i have a disabled brother, so she cant sleep in, she has to follow a really strict schedual to get him ready. i cant, he’s older than me, and really strong. lol i would have to show/shave my brother, get him dressed, etc. as you cans ee, thats not a 13 year olds job (sorry mama) anyway i decided on this

set my alarm to 8:30 make her breakfast(my homemade crepes with home made cream cheese filling, bacon, scrambled eggs with cheese)/buy her new fave coffee to make, and card w/ gift certificate to ???

give her b-fast at 9:00, watch TV in her room with her (one of our fave shows from the night before)

let her get larry ready and i sleep downstairs

when she comes down 10:00? give her presents. bath basket, flowers (cut AND potted) home made candles, fave coffee, ??? (some sort of crafts, mom plaques, wind chimes, bracelets, anything sweet and sentimental i can find at hallmark XD)

let her chillax while i clean the car, then the house.

come in around 12:00 to make us lunch (tuna melt with lettuce, tomato, and swiaa cheese, one of her faves)

eat, then finish cleaning, when i’m done, then chillax with her

make dinner (my homemade mac n cheese)

and continue to watch some of the movies she’s wanted to see that i will redbox the day before,

send her off to bed when i’m done, make her relax and soak in the tub, with candles lit, and a glass of wine/a good book

have a poem on her pillow for when she goes to bed, so that she sees it and reads it.

come in when she is reading it and tell her i love her, happy mothers day, nighty night, etc.

good? what other things can i do, and what kind of gifts?

…wind chime?
I don’t want to buy a drill/diamond bit and do this myself. Thanks!

it was a song in my old band i was in, but my songs are more poetry than songs you know?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VSB0NK7XrXw i played it once in front of people if you would like to see it on music

it’s called
Suicide River

Isolated by a river that no-one sees
Bleeding by a river no-one can heal
Red waters gracefully riding the wind
Seeing the spirits of those who have sinned
The sky as blue as an Angel’s eye
Dark clouds concealing the majestic sky
Crows soar above the dead trees
Insects drink from the noxious lilies
Tears fall from the darkened clouds
I wonder who cries on top of the cloud
Listen carefully to hear the wails echo
On top of the clouds cries the harvester of sorrow
A bell chimes across the land
Dark clouds rain out blood
I climb into a casket for cover
Drifting along Suicide river
Children dance barefoot on broken glass
They laugh for they cannot die twice
Virgins sing a tune as they cut themselves
I hear them singing to me…
"Cut yourself and show what you bleed
I cut and bleed just for the need
blood runs down my wrist and out my veins
as I scream my lovers name"
Suicidal death greets me so warm on this river
Drifting through the phenomenon
I begin to hear the cry of the lost white wolf
howling its sorrow to me
What am I here… at suicide river
Suicide river, suicide river
I try to glance at my own reflection in the waters
but when I look I see someone else’s face
Forever long I stay in this casket
floating down the murky red waters