About Lesson


“Doesn’t Remind Me” by Audioslave

I walk the streets of Japan till I get lost

Cause it doesn’t remind me of anything

With a graveyard tan carrying a cross

Cause it doesn’t remind me of anything

I like studying faces in a parking lot

Cause it doesn’t remind me of anything

I like driving backwards in the fog

Cause it doesn’t remind me of anything

The things that I’ve loved the things that I’ve lost

The things I’ve held sacred that I’ve dropped

I won’t lie nor more than you can bet

I don’t want to learn what I’ll need to forget

I like gypsy moths and radio talk

Cause it doesn’t remind me of anything

I like gospel music and canned applause

Cause it doesn’t remind me of anything

I like colorful clothing in the sun

Cause it doesn’t remind me of anything

I like hammering nails and speaking in tongues

Cause it doesn’t remind me of anything

The things that I’ve loved the things that I’ve lost

The things I’ve held sacred that I’ve dropped

I won’t lie nor more than you can bet

I don’t want to learn what I’ll need to forget

Bend and shape me

I love the way you are

Slow and sweetly

Like never before

Calm and sleeping

We won’t stir up the past

So discreetly

We won’t look back

The things that I’ve loved the things that I’ve lost

The things I’ve held sacred that I’ve dropped

I won’t lie nor more than you can bet

I don’t want to learn what I’ll need to forget

I like throwing my voice and breaking guitars

Cause it doesn’t remind me of anything

I like playing in the sand what’s mine is ours

Cause it doesn’t remind me of anything


“Quiet Girl” by Langston Hughes

I would liken you

To a night without stars

Were it not for your eyes.

I would liken you

To a sleep without dreams

Were it not for your songs.


“Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound’s the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.


“Play” by Gertrude Stein

Play, play every day, play and play and play away, and then play
the play you played to-day, the play you play every day, play it
and play it. Play it and remember it and ask to play it. Play it, and
play it and play away. Certainly every one wants you to play,
every one wants you to play away, to play every day, to play and
play, to play the play you play every day, to play and remember it
and ask to play it and play it and to play away and to play every
day and to-day and all day. That’s the way to play, to play every
day….


“BOM Mumbai Airport” by Nick Makoha

This far East your thoughts are the edge
of the world. It will not be the last time
that you walk through a door hoping
to return. From your cabin window heat
sweats off the tarmac. Think of this space
like a tree without branches or a wind
that hides itself till you show your face.
You are not alone you have my voice.
There is the wind and there is my face.
The man next to you will wake from
his dream with the sound turned low.



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