This fragment of an old Atmosphere song encapsulates exactly how I felt all through January. In particular, getting "nervous each time my piece passes go" seems a reference to that certain dark January melancholy we get up here.
They slipped hidden messages within the cards that they dealt
To understand myself and all the sorrow I felt
For as simple as I am
How'd I get so complex?
Got me studying the margins and disregarding the text
I open the curtains and listen to the traffic go
But I still get nervous each time my piece passes go
The residue is thick and the memory fails
I still laugh because the path feels a lot like a trail
If I could run through the woods and speed like the light
I'd find the answers to why and be back by tonight
If I could fly through the fog and look down at this rock
I'd figure out how to keep hell off my block
Atmosphere, The River (Sad Clown Bad Dub 2/7)
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