Hold My Hand 2The next morning Frank was up at eight. He showered, ate breakfast, dressed and was ready to go at eight forty. The nervousness that got his heart quickening, made his stomach twist and armpits start to sweat when he knocked on Rammstein's bus door. Good thing he had remembered to slather on antiperspirant deodorant.
A minute passed before Till opened the door, a small smile gracing his features at seeing the books Frank held. The big man was wearing sweats and a loose black shirt. Frank himself wore his favorite ripped at the knees black jeans and a vermillion t-shirt. Dress to impress, The rhythm guitarist thought to himself mockingly. He followed the man up the steps and into a living room that was laid out exactly like the other band's bus. The only difference was the things in it and the five other men puttering about.
The shower was running, and two of the six bunk curtains were closed so there was three. Flake was making something and Olli was reading what looked to be a
Hold My HandPerhaps if they had known the psychological damage Werner, Till's father, had done to Till, his bandmates would not have been surprised at Till taking such a younger lover.
The young man was twenty six years old.
He was in his prime, coursing with energy and laughter. Frank Iero was his name and he could not have been more different from Till Lindemann. Till was quiet, cautious, and well planned whereas Frank was laughing, impulsive and on the fly.
It may have been because of the two cultures the two were raised in. Till came from square head Germany where "better safe than sorry." was drilled into people at birth. Frank on the other hand came from loudmouth America where being an individual was the most important thing.
If cultures didn't separate them, along with an ocean, physical features also rendered them an unlikely couple. Till was a tall, brawny man with a swimmer's body. He had a strong jaw, thick eyebrows, lips that ran on the thin side, and calm, sleepy sea glass green eyes
MCR and RammsteinPeople have a wide variety in musical taste. The man who loves rap and soul music may also have a fondness for classical music. The metal head chick could be a lover of country music. Similarly fans who like My Chemical Romance an alternative band whose from the US, may also like Rammstein, a Neue Deutsche Härte band, hailing from Germany. Both bands are unique and yet from the same side of the coin in their lyrics, music videos and fame. Let's dive into what makes these bands the way they are.
Click "Play" on a Rammstein CD and deep, growling vocals in a guttural language will fill the air. Till's bass baritone voice is a caress, albeit a rough one. Though the lyrics are in German, Rammstein manages perfectly fine to show off the intended emotions in their songs. It even helps not to know the lyrics the first time through, this way the listener picks up more on Till's voice and the instrumen
She's Extraordinary"Vati....Vati! Wake up Vati!" The little blonde haired girl demanded, persistently shaking her father's shoulder.
"What? What's wrong?" The big man sleepily questioned, rubbing his bleary eyes and looking at his child.
"Vati, there's a baby on the porch!" The little girl stated, now tugging on his hands.
"Go to bed Nele, you're just hearing a baby across the way." Till answered dismissively as he closed his eyes.
"Nein, get up! I saw it!" Nele demanded, now pulling his blankets off of him.
"Cover your eyes!" Till barked, to which Nele looked towards the door while he pulled on his underwear. "Alright where is the baby?" Till sighed as he got up and followed after his child. The kitchen and living room lights were on, showing that Nele had been in them.
Sure enough, when Nele opened their front door a baby lay on their porch, swaddled in a blue brown blanket illuminated by the porch light. The squalling baby had its little fists clenched, mouth open wide in its wailing, slanted e
Majestic CrowThey flock around him
Vying for a signal of interest
A word of praise
Their flamboyant colors garish to his black painted breast
Little sparrows they are that chirp, chirp, chirp
But he's not listening to a word
Those chocolate brown eyes gaze off sightlessly
He is the majestic crow
Silent and strong
He puts to shame the fledglings' downy feathers
And the grown birds that swarm the halls
Their feathers now washed out from caring for their brood
Though his feathers still have a silky gloss to them
It is his eyes that betray him
They are care worn from his life
As the crow
From my perch across the hall
I see him ruffles his feathers
And shift on his own perch
He is restless for
It is nearly time for us to enter our cages
Those warm chocolate brown eyes
That paralyze when they capture
To which he dips his head in greeting
Before he returns to gazing blindly at the horizon
I, a sparrow, am graced to be noticed
It is a gift many receive but too few realize
The bell signals our en