"These are songs about people, who's souls are in danger or are at risk.
Through where they are in the world or what the world is bringing to them.
Thats a human constant.
Whether people are religious, or spiritual or not.
These songs are about that risk, that danger, people feel on a daily basis. "
Bruce Springsteen, about the songs from his new album "Devil+Dust".
Labels: Music
Subjected my self to one of these snap Quizes, in the hope of finding the answer to the Question "Who's the true me?".
Well, dunno.
Here are the results.
The True You |
| You want your girlfriend or boyfriend to be together with you always, no matter when or where. |
| With respect to money, you spend as little as possible. |
| You think good luck doesn't exist - reality is built on practicalities. |
| The hidden side of your personality tends to be a little selfish. You only do what interests you. |
| You are tend to think about others' feelings a lot, perhaps because you are so eager to be liked. |
| When it comes to finding a romantic partner, you don't have any particular type in mind, but you are inclined to look for someone who will say yes when you ask him / her out. |
Labels: Revolving Doors
Crumpled sheets of Heartbreak Hotel...Tired, broken, drifter.
Teeter, reel and stagger.
Did you take my breath away?
A journey down a hot asphalt highway.
The Crystal gazers didn’t foretell.
Crumpled sheets of Heartbreak Hotel.
Labels: Fiction
A Summer with Penny Lane...In penny lane there is a fireman with an hourglass
And in his pocket is a portrait of the queen.
He likes to keep his fire engine clean,
It’s a clean machine.
Behind the shelter in the middle of a roundabout
The pretty nurse is selling poppies from a tray
And tho’ she feels as if she’s in a play
She is anyway.
Penny lane is in my ears and in my eyes.
There beneath the blue suburban skies,
Penny lane.
Labels: Music
Love songs like small whispers.
Drunk on a Sunday Night. The new week, a life time away.
I laugh to myself, the delusions of a little man.
You are asleep in my little town.
Maybe you think, a thing of the past, might not yet be over.
I thought about you on Suburban trains.
When I missed you, I closed my eyes in the river breeze.
Imagined Road trips, when I squinted behind shades.
Turned around to see if you were standing by the door.
When I had an aching head, I wrote bad verse.
On cold boat trips, I longed to hold your hand.
At parties, too bored to be happy, too drunk to be sad.
I wanted you by my side, I wanted to turn heads.
Polished guitars in show windows, I wish I had a song.
Flower shops under stripped tarpaulin.
Close to midnight, writing to you on white sheets. I finally realize.
All I ever wanted was a beautiful love story.
Labels: Fiction
