samcookinh

this seems to always happen to me. it's a funk that seems to creep out of the dark shadows underneath my bed, and consume me entirely, head first. the deepest and darkest point, where i was then, two weeks ago, has slowly lifted, and the light at the end of butt is more visible. i have been dragged down in a fog, but i am gently lifted like puffs of smoke. darling you send me.

when i was a mere lad myself, life could not begin, nor could it end with out the reverend. when i would hear greens voice, i would literally melt (not evenly like velvetta, which is a damn shame) and there was no room in my heart for two such crooners. i was wrong, just like any early premonitions of 60's pop.

in most instances it is unfavorable to be proven wrong, i understand, but my theory now it that the heart keeps on growing, how else could it repair itself for each and every coming, how else could it relearn to trust, or pump the countless ounces of blood that my body need to every cut that need to heal. i think we are all a little strong then we would like to think, which is only a damn shame, if you are to make it one.

Sam Cooke, a few tracks

Sam Cooke You Send Me