Cannonball Lyrics Damien Rice Novels & Stories

Clearing my throat, I began to read: "I might not be the kind of boy that every girl would call a perfect boyfriend. I might not have everything, And I might not be able to make you smile every time. I am just me—Damian. Yes, the gold-headed Damian. But from the day I met you, baby girl, I have never stopped thinking about you. Please, baby, be my girl forever, And make my joy complete. I have never felt this happy around any other girl. Whenever I see you smile, or walk, or even hear that melodious voice of yours, There is always this happiness inside me. I might not be much, But believe me when I say, I adore you more than anyone. I love you even more than I love myself. Please, Cynthia...

The Grand Ballroom of the Shangri-La Mactan still hummed with the soft murmur of conversations, the clinking of champagne flutes, and the elegant strains of the live jazz band. But for Isabelle, the entire opulent space had narrowed, shrinking until it encompassed only herself and Damian. His “You look… exceptional” still echoed in her ears, a profound compliment that transcended mere words. His dismissal of Cassandra, sharp and unequivocal, had been a silent, powerful declaration, a shield against the whispers and the icy looks that had plagued her for weeks.

"Look, I even cut my index finger while smashing those bottles." The camera cut to Theodore crouching in front of her. His long, slender fingers held a bandage, which he carefully pressed onto her fingertip. He then lowered his head and pressed a restrained kiss to her finger, his voice low and husky. "There. It doesn't hurt anymore." Calista stared at the screen, feeling as if the wound on her head had been ripped open again and doused with a bottle of alcohol. The phantom pain was so sharp it left her fingertips numb.

“That girl was a solution! You need to stop sabotaging this!” “The only solution I need is one that doesn’t make me want to claw my own eyes out. Next.” The last girl scurries out like she’d rather be anywhere but listening to our back-and-forths. For an agonizing long second, it’s just the two of us and the hum of Lewis Capaldi crooning “Someone You Loved” from the corner speaker. The irony isn’t lost on me.

James was sitting in the dark living room, the glow of his cigarette flickering faintly. Seeing me enter, he jerked his head up, exhaustion written all over his face. He rushed over and pulled me into a tight embrace. "Babe, where have you been?" Then, realizing I couldn't hear him, he let go and signed, "I've been calling and texting you all day. Why didn't you answer?" I glanced at my phone and replied coldly, "Battery died, so it was off." He let out a sigh of relief. "I thought I did something to upset you."

The crowd quieted and Kaceyton began singing in a deep, gravelly voice DMX would have been proud of. You wanna crawl in my cave I take you on You can scuffle in my tunnel And I’ll send you home Was it me or were these lyrics somewhat suggestive? You wanna stick it in my face I’ll break it off One left, one right I bust you in half ‘Cause my fists so fast they go The trolls responded: BADA BOOM BOOM And my hips so fast they go Again the trolls joined in: ZOOM ZOOM ZOOM When shit is getting heavy Like it weighs a ton

I gave Damon a smile, “Well that's great then, innit? Okay. Let's hear it.” Damian gave me a mock salute, then took a seat beside me, and his fingers began to strike the chords. Slowly, he started playing “Despacito” and singing it, too. I was totally blown away by the smooth and stunning sound of his voice. By the time he sang the last lyrics of the song, my body was filled with goosebumps. “Oh my God,” I gushed and went to hug him before he could set aside the guitar. “That was so beautiful, Damian. Thank you so much,”

The snow appeared after, revealing a large field covered in a thick blanket of white, the singers running, footsteps prints crisscrossed each other around the labyrinth of paths. Then spring came and vivid colors appeared, this season represented the newest song Extreme. Damian appeared on the screen, wearing a white tee a red Hawaiian shirt above. He approached the camera and sat on a chair like he was facing Avery. “Hey, Ave.” Avery choked on her coffee and stared at her boyfriend, who was sitting behind. “What the hell?” she laughed.

Damian froze mid-turn, spine going rigid like someone had yanked a chain straight through him. Rian, oblivious to the landmine he’d just stepped on, kept going with the easy confidence of a man who thought he was helping. Rian continued, oblivious, “—and there was something else mixed in. Rain, I think.” “What,” Damian said—low, guttural, a stripped-down thing. “What did you say?” Rian blinked. “I—uh—jasmine? I caught it in the chamber when we came in.” Damian took a step forward like a predator scent-tracking through fog, eyes dark and glassy. “Jasmine,” he repeated, each syllable carved with disbelief and something far more dangerous. “With a hint of rain—”

I let it all go. His hand finds its way under my top “Damien” I moaned before I could stop it