You agree with me, when I saw you kicking dirt in my eye.
Sometimes I remember Africa.
When I see all the beauty that lies in the ugliest of places, it gets me away from the ugliness that lies in beautiful places. It is comforting, to see that there is hope in the middle of despair, that there is a world outside of the superficiality I see around me. There is so much suffering there, and I regret that immensely. When I hold a child dying from disease, and weep tears of regret on his thin flesh, it reminds me how fortunate I am. It's a thick, brutal punishment, this place we call life. We have so little time. Not nearly enough for what really matters. I am going to dinner with my sister tonight, and then she will be returning to New York to have her baby. Perhaps I will accompany her if she finds she will be lonely. I am trying not to hold any anger at her husband...but she is my sister and I do feel protective. Paris and Prince love New York. Our home there needs a visit.
Sometimes I watch a movie and sit and think about all the millions of people sitting at a desk, working rudimentary tasks for a large company with little to no thanks...and I feel sorry for them too. The working class, the people who buy my music, who respect and sometimes criticize me...I owe what I am to them, and yet I run away. Their hard earned minimum wage dollars go to me...and sometimes I forget to be grateful. I think of them simply as 'my fans', and I love them dearly...but sometimes I forget to appreciate what makes them my fans. More than their money, their love which they bestow on me because there is something in me they trust.
At these times I feel like I am the luckiest man in the world.
When I see all the beauty that lies in the ugliest of places, it gets me away from the ugliness that lies in beautiful places. It is comforting, to see that there is hope in the middle of despair, that there is a world outside of the superficiality I see around me. There is so much suffering there, and I regret that immensely. When I hold a child dying from disease, and weep tears of regret on his thin flesh, it reminds me how fortunate I am. It's a thick, brutal punishment, this place we call life. We have so little time. Not nearly enough for what really matters. I am going to dinner with my sister tonight, and then she will be returning to New York to have her baby. Perhaps I will accompany her if she finds she will be lonely. I am trying not to hold any anger at her husband...but she is my sister and I do feel protective. Paris and Prince love New York. Our home there needs a visit.
Sometimes I watch a movie and sit and think about all the millions of people sitting at a desk, working rudimentary tasks for a large company with little to no thanks...and I feel sorry for them too. The working class, the people who buy my music, who respect and sometimes criticize me...I owe what I am to them, and yet I run away. Their hard earned minimum wage dollars go to me...and sometimes I forget to be grateful. I think of them simply as 'my fans', and I love them dearly...but sometimes I forget to appreciate what makes them my fans. More than their money, their love which they bestow on me because there is something in me they trust.
At these times I feel like I am the luckiest man in the world.