Twenty miles left to the show. Hello, my old country. Hello. Stars are just beginning to appear, and I have never, in my life, before been here. And its my heart, not me, who cannot drive, at which conclusion you arrived, watching me sit here, bolt upright, and cry for no good reason at the Eastering sky. And the tilt of this strange nation, and the will to remain for the duration (waving the flag, feeling it drag). Like a bump on a bump on a log, baby; like Im in a fistfight with the fog, baby; step, ball-change, and a-pirouette! And I regret how I said to you, Honey, just open your heart, when Ive got trouble even opening a honey jar. And that, right there, is where we are. Ive been fessing, double-fast, addressing questions nobody asked. Ill get this joy off of my chest, at last, and I will love you till the noise has long since passed. I did not mean to shout, Just drive, Just get us out, dead or alive. The roads too long to mention — Lord, its something to see! — laid down by the Good Intentions Paving Company, all the way to the thing weve been playing at, darling. I can see that youre wearing your staying-hat, darling. For the time being, all is well. Wont you love me a spell? This is blindness, beyond all conceiving, while behind us, the road is leaving, and leaving, and falling back like a rope gone slack. Well, I saw straightaway that the lay was steep, but I fell for you, honey, easy as falling asleep. And that, right there, is the course I keep. And no amount of talking is going to soften the fall, but, like after the rain, step out of the overhang. Thats all. It had a nice ring to it, when the old opry house rang, so, with a solemn auld lang syne, sealed, delivered, I sang. And there is hesitation, and it always remains (concerning you, me, and the rest of the gang), but, in our quiet hour, I feel I see everything, and am in love with the hook upon which everyone hangs. And I know you meant to show the extent to which you gave a goddang — you ranged real hot and real cold, but Im sold, I am at home on that range. And I do hate to fold, right here, at the top of my game, when Ive been trying with my whole heart and soul to stay right here, in the right lane. But it can make you feel over, and old (Lord, you know its a shame), when I only want for you to pull over, and hold me, till I cant remember my own name.
Posted on: Sun, 26 Oct 2014 21:36:34 +0000
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