OK.
I'm going to tell you guys a story. I just posted the majority this on the Dirty boards in the "Songs That Kill You" thread.
I done a woman wrong, once. Like in a blues song, that kind of wrong. We knew it was over, but we kept wanting to make it work. This was the year of Reverence by Faithless. The year of "Salve Mea" and "Insomnia." The album had other depths, though. "Don't Leave" was track two, and it's a devastating piece of work. Jamie Catto sings the saddest, most miserable lyric ever, wanting his lover to stay.
We were in the car when we first heard the record. I remember distinctly looking out the window, trying to avoid her gaze during the song. When it was over, I saw her eyes running over with tears. I broke down with her and we cried for the next three songs before we straightened up and walked into the restaurant, where friends waited.
I still get moments where I feel like a bastard for doing that woman wrong and that song can still make me a weepy sister.
I'm going to tell you guys a story. I just posted the majority this on the Dirty boards in the "Songs That Kill You" thread.
I done a woman wrong, once. Like in a blues song, that kind of wrong. We knew it was over, but we kept wanting to make it work. This was the year of Reverence by Faithless. The year of "Salve Mea" and "Insomnia." The album had other depths, though. "Don't Leave" was track two, and it's a devastating piece of work. Jamie Catto sings the saddest, most miserable lyric ever, wanting his lover to stay.
We were in the car when we first heard the record. I remember distinctly looking out the window, trying to avoid her gaze during the song. When it was over, I saw her eyes running over with tears. I broke down with her and we cried for the next three songs before we straightened up and walked into the restaurant, where friends waited.
I still get moments where I feel like a bastard for doing that woman wrong and that song can still make me a weepy sister.
