The Noresoup Jukebox

I fear there is a living much beyond this I fear I exist in places I do not know. A friend wrote to me, says he finds no peace --- the way we yearn for a thing we do not yet know.  Alas, the air has warmed Spring has so quickly come and gone. All before I could awaken That winter slumber, my seeds not yet sown. I fear there is a living made for a taller person, a better woman, and she flourishes in the avenues --- Atlantis of peoples' souls. And they tell me about her, eyes gleaming, that hopeful pearly gaze, Hand me her shoes, her gown, her coat, But I have not yet grown.

Melody Gardot - Um Beijo it takes two to tango, they say so, will you speak gently to me? if i spew fire, be water --- you know if i miss a step, you may go ahead and miss a step or two so then, i may correct you --- you know and you may keep your hands folded in prayer, whichever God lest in whimsy, they decide to roam --- you know keep up with the beat until I tire and lean, then your hands may do other things --- you know

Grief is a funny little thing, Most days, I forget. What it was that I was grieving, What melodies carried my laments. Because most times I feel empowered, I am strong, I forget the thing. But grief comes and goes like a funny fling. The pillow that I sleep on A night, so quiet and tender. Creeps in under the blanket, weighted footsteps dipping the mattress; My sorry bed. Like a lover, long forgotten --- returning.  Grief like a rushed spring Gone cold for all the mundane, And when the day is good; meets me at the curb. As if to say, Darling, you've grown lovely! Rousing the lulled grief; Making it a verb. 

So this is what they call living this perpetual trying -           lift the legs off the bed            and feel the earth beneath. I woke up to the ground shifting and a lark knocking on my window. There seems to be a new life waiting. But I call it off, and tell the lark to spread the news -  I will be there tomorrow.

Alice Phoebe Lou - Hammer this dullness like a veil over my head so bleak has the world become a massacre of the nerves as the veil holds me - a not knowing of what to be. this dullness like curtains drawn light seeping in just slightly warm does the room become and so, i cannot deny the Sun. a waiting for something to happen to ask a favour                "tell me something good" this dullness like shadows against fabric a tracing of the joy i once knew. 

Joan Baez - It Ain't Me, Babe And so, I let the light in - Sunlight was the chariot,  Warm was the affection it brought. And I would have stayed for the promise of warmer gifts, even if clouds cluttered the air.  And so, I trusted and looked into the sun, This game of vulnerability and patience.  Feigned the act of mastery,  Dulled down the craving, and you called it prudence.  I called it, trying So I could call it love. And my skin thinned beneath the composure. And I looked to you, You who came from the sun - a mirage I now know. I whispered, I am tired, dearest. And just as soon as I let the light in And so, I had to let it go.