I see a red door and I want it painted black....
So I'm listening to the rolling stones, "Paint it black" and I realize that the song describes the very way I used to feel almost every minute of every day.
Strangely enough, as I'm writing this, my song list transitions from the stones to the doors.
"This is the end, my only friend, the end".
And now I think it's weird that the subjects of these songs go hand in hand, for we move from a place of un-comfort to a longing that calls for something like sleep or death or a friend.
But, as Jim so nicely put it, this end is our friend, for it lets us rest from the eternal disorder of our
selves and the pain within our souls.
Ha, I'm only joking, it's only music. I'm tired. It's late.
...I wonder where this line came from: "all the children are insane"...
Jim, inspiration comes in strange places, I know, but why are these children waiting for the summer rain?
Why, Jim, why do they want the rain?
And so just listen:
"The killer awoke before dawn, he put his boots on
He took a face from the ancient gallery
And he walked on down the hall
He went into the room where his sister lived, and...then he
Paid a visit to his brother, and then he
He walked on down the hall, and
And he came to a door...and he looked inside
Father, yes son, I want to kill you
Mother...I want to...fuck you"
What a wonderful spin on Oedipus. I wonder...
Strangely enough, as I'm writing this, my song list transitions from the stones to the doors.
"This is the end, my only friend, the end".
And now I think it's weird that the subjects of these songs go hand in hand, for we move from a place of un-comfort to a longing that calls for something like sleep or death or a friend.
But, as Jim so nicely put it, this end is our friend, for it lets us rest from the eternal disorder of our
selves and the pain within our souls.
Ha, I'm only joking, it's only music. I'm tired. It's late.
...I wonder where this line came from: "all the children are insane"...
Jim, inspiration comes in strange places, I know, but why are these children waiting for the summer rain?
Why, Jim, why do they want the rain?
And so just listen:
"The killer awoke before dawn, he put his boots on
He took a face from the ancient gallery
And he walked on down the hall
He went into the room where his sister lived, and...then he
Paid a visit to his brother, and then he
He walked on down the hall, and
And he came to a door...and he looked inside
Father, yes son, I want to kill you
Mother...I want to...fuck you"
What a wonderful spin on Oedipus. I wonder...