The hazy orange sun is sinking behind the terminal buildings at the airport and I’m staring at the airliners departing the city for far off places. Sunday afternoon shift, empty breaks room, open panoramic window, cold winter sky.
I’ve been writing and playing, editing and experimenting lately. Old songs being reworked but mostly new songs are taking shape. It’s a time of torturous dedication and discipline. Some days I feel like giving up but I’ve learned that the magic appears on the page just beyond that feeling. When you let go and open your heart and soul to the muse, you sometimes meet your stories at a deserted bus stop, see them in a forgotten photograph or dance with them in a tiny bar. You sometimes manage to find your own story in the fragments of a song carried on the wind. You have to pay attention and give yourself permission to be creative. Approach the process with discipline and humility. Perhaps there is redemption or temporary peace on the other side.
Left you behind in the driving snow
Twenty years and a day ago
Saw you standing in the pale street light
Neon dancing in a pitch dark night
Just another girl from a Timber Town only way out is the long way down
I tried so hard but you couldn't see
The ancient forest for the crooked trees.
Theres just some things that you I cant let go.
Like your pretty dress at the Rodeo. Riverside Coffee and the late night calls
Scott Street jukebox in the early Fall
You were bumming quarters for the song machine
in cowboy boots and cut-off jeans
Your eyes met mine from across the room.
Strawberry hair and sweet perfume.
You got a steady job that gets you through and a little boy that looks like you.
Guess this place will never get you down.
And I'm the one that never left this town.
JB