I had just 10 minutes before seen the quiet emptiness where the twin towers once stood. Leaning against a wall, just past the stairs of an underground I waited. My best friend's family were trying to work a Manhattan Metro ticket machine...but to no avail. Both my best friend and I felt it pointless to intervene. Over my shoulder I heard some commotion. Intrigued, like all the other would be commuters that afternoon, I had glanced over at the situation unfolding.
A desperate man. An old man pleading for help. It was uncomfortable to see and to hear. His claustrophobic despair tried to fight through the clunks of the turnstiles and passing trains through all the voices around both him and I. He seemed so lost, so hurt. It was horrible to watch. I had to turn away from him, it was too hard to see someone in that much pain. I don't know exactly what was wrong with him. But as the turnstiles clumped and clanked into place, and the bellowing voices of others continued, he shouted in desperation. 'Get out of my head, please get out of my head! Get the voices out my head!'. I can only assume he had schizophrenia. His pleas didn't sound like they were from a drunkard, or druggy.
I then witnessed him try to escape through the turnstiles without a ticket. People passed him endlessly, seemingly, without care. When we eventually got the tickets and ventured through the turnstile I glanced through the bars at the man. He was frantically moving around seeking help from anyone. It was terrifying to watch. And it is still worrying to me to think, what if got through that turnstile? Got near the train platform? Did something out with his control? I still think about him sometimes, with an overwhelming sympathy. And hope that he didn't get through the turnstile.
About 8 months later, I researched the topic of schizophrenia. And overtime wrote Spitting Feathers (originally entitled 'Earworms'). My wife used the term spitting feathers in a conversation one day, and I thought it fit perfectly.
Track 3: Spitting Feathers (In Cloud Cuckooland):
Click, clang, clack, clock,
Go the turnstiles cogs,
Antidepressant drugs,
Itchy trigger finger again,
Was I here last night?
Was it the satellites in space again?
Spitting feathers,
Spitting feathers in Manhattan,
On the subway trains,
Black arteries,
Run under the streets,
Taken over me
He talks to the microwave,
It shouts right back,
Wants a word salad,
Keep to the point and don't digress again,
Hyper overdrive,
Demons shout and whisper die die die,
The laughter stops,
Run for the tracks and try the guillotine again,
Was I here last night?
Was it the satellites in space again?
Spitting feathers,
Spitting feathers in Manhattan,
On the subway trains,
Black arteries,
Run under the streets,
Taken over me
A fox in box
Who locks my door,
J'adore the docs,
Who lock my box
Written in 2008-09
Watch this space for more stories behind my songs,
Wullae Wright
www.myspace.com/wullaewright
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