Translator: Leonardo Silva Reviewer: Denise RQ
(Piano music) The storm came without any warning.
Letting open the sky and washed out all the heat.
With no shield, I'm soaked down.
I'm just running around, taking cover under trees.
The weatherman promised sun,
But you can't slow down the rain when it comes.
Nothing stays the same.
The only thing I can count on is change.
You can't fix what's already written.
Try to undo the ink, but it's still gonna leave a stain.
But someday, it'll have new meaning.
You won't see it the way you thought you always would.
The word seems so permanent,
But even the writer misinterprets it.
Nothing stays the same.
The only thing I can count on
Is change.
Ooo...
We're so hopeful right at the beginning.
We can't imagine how a feeling so strong could fail.
But just like before, we will outgrow each other.
So, I can't worry about how and when we're gonna break.
I'm taking it day by day.
Because I have learned that love is not a promise paid.
Nothing stays the same.
The only thing I can count on,
The only thing I can count on
Is change.
(Cheers) (Applause)
Thank you.
My name is Jess Nolan,
and I'm a songwriter originally from Highland Park, New Jersey.
I'm currently attending the Frost School of Music,
in the songwriting program at UM,
and I'm really happy you guys are here today to hear my songs
and for me to share my stories.
This song I wrote is called "Burn."
I hope you guys enjoy it.
(Piano music)
I know what you did,
So you can't stay here tonight.
Lock the door, close the blinds.
I refuse to fight.
When you were touching her, did I even cross your mind?
Look at me with those sad eyes, because this is the last time.
Strike a match, hold my breath.
It's permanent, no turning back.
Strike a match, hold my breath.
It's hard to call it love when it's built on lies.
'Cause you hold your hand out to burn me.
Where do you go when you're not here?
Laying your bed of your own fear.
I pray that fire will set me free.
All that I need to walk away
Is watch us go down in flames.
La-ta-too, la-too-la-too.
I threw out all the things
They remind me of the truth.
There's not a single word left to say,
But goodbye to me and you.
Ooo...
Strike a match, hold my breath.
It's permanent, no turning back.
Strike a match, hold my breath.
It's hard to call it love
Because you hold your hand out to burn me.
Where do you go when you're not here,
Laying your bed of your own fear.
I pray the fire will set me free.
All that I need to walk away is watch us go down in flames.
Ash is falling.
Smoke is rising.
I am rising too.
Ash is falling.
Smoke is rising.
I am rising too.
You hold your hand out and burn me.
Where do you go when you're not here,
Laying a bed of your own fear?
I pray the fire will set me free.
All that I need to walk away is watch us go down in flames.
(Cheers) (Applause)
This last song I'm going to play I wrote about a year and a half ago.
It was a regular weekday afternoon,
and I got a phone call from my parents that my grandmother was very sick,
and within the next half hour after the call, I wrote this song.
It's the fastest I've ever written a song,
and probably the most natural that I ever wrote a song.
It just sort of came to me, and I had this piece of music.
And it's really important to me
because it was the first time in my writing
that I was writing about something that I was scared to talk about.
I'm usually not scared to talk about my feelings,
but this was the first time I was dealing with something
I wasn't comfortable with talking about
which was the fact that I was going to lose my grandmother.
And I put together this video montage of home videos
to go along with this song, and I hope you guys enjoy it.
This is "For my Grandmother."
(Piano music)
She lies in bed in a white room,
Not where she belongs.
Once, she was growing in a garden.
Her paintings hang on the walls at home,
Each one with fields of green,
Each one a lively scene.
There's a circle in everything.
There's a circle.
Wrapped up in the cleanest cotton,
Her hair is thinning out,
But she still smiles somehow.
And I still see her through the porch screen.
She is planting seeds.
She is teaching me.
But there's a circle in everything.
But there's a circle.
A circle.
She keeps her paintbrushes in the attic,
Where there's a bird's-eye view
To see me drawing on the sidewalk.
I used to hide there when I'd run away from home.
She would hold my hand,
And now I understand
That there's a circle in everything.
There's a circle.
She lies in bed in a white room,
But it won't be long.
I see her growing in a garden.
(Applause)