Monday, March 30, 2009
(part 156) LAY ME DOWN
LAY ME DOWN EASY
LAY ME DOWN SLOW
SOMEDAY I'LL GET THERE
SOMEDAY I KNOW
ALL OF THE MISERY
ALL OF THE PAIN
WILL VANISH FOREVER
AND WON'T COME AGAIN
I'LL TAKE A WALK
OUT ON THE SEA
AND STAND ON THE OCEAN
TOTALLY FREE
SO LAY ME DOWN GENTLY
LAY ME DOWN LONG
CRADLE MY HEART
AND SING ME A SONG
SING ME TO SLEEP
WITH A SWEET LULLABY
HOLD ME AND KISS ME
AND DON'T SAY GOODBYE
AND IF I CROSS OVER
BEFORE YOU AWAKE
THEN LAY ME DOWN EASY
WITH THE PEACE I COULD MAKE
I WAS FOREVER
YESTERDAY'S CHILD
AND ALL MY TOMORROWS
HAVE ALREADY SMILED
SO LAY ME DOWN EASY
LAY ME DOWN SLOW
SOMEDAY I'LL GET THERE
SOMEDAY I KNOW
Bobby Jameson Mar, 2009
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My mom passed away in January of pancreatic cancer. This is the third time I've read this today, and somehow just now, I read it thinking about her, and damn if I didn't start crying. In a good way, a needed way.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Bobby.
A couple posts back, you asked why we come here. For me, it's connected to how I feel about your music, how it's affected me in ways great and small. It's kinda like discovering Bob Dylan has a blog that not too many people know about, and I get to learn more about you. Because so much of the way you describe your anger, your pains, your sadnesses and disappointments, they all somehow reflect ways I feel about being on this ridiculous spinning fleck of shitdust. Just like your records, your words say the things I'm not poetic enough to say. I wish me coming here somehow provided you with an income, with more than just an electronic handshake and thank you. When I think of all the copies of "Songs of Protest" I'd find and hoard and give to friends from around 1995 to around 2004, before they became collector's items, damn, it pains me because I was buying them from used record stores, stoop sales, catching them like bits of gold to hand to my friends. You weren't getting any money from my purchases. I know that's not my fault, but it saddens me nonetheless, because in MY dreamworld, you received proper renumeration. Not just strangers across this country you'd never meet, telling me it was one of the greatest records they've ever heard. I wish my respect for you translated into something tangible for you, something that could help you with debts and neccesities.
I guess then one of the reasons I come here is because you are deserving of attention, deserving of respect, deserve to be heard. Funny thing, in a way, is, if we ever met, shit man, you'd probably walk away, saying, "What a fuckin' pussy. Fuckin' twat ass!" And honestly, that'd be okay, because you'd be speaking your truth, as you see it. I've got faults like a motherfucker, and I'm a tenth of the man you are. And that's alright. I'm learning....
This means the world to me, it really means so much that you came here and posted these words. I was getting ready to black this blog out, but I got this from you, so I let it stay.
ReplyDeleteI can only imagine how many mixed feelings you must have thinking about keeping this blog up or just saying fuck it and letting it go. No one, no one but you can know these feelings. I could never blame you or be angry if you decided to just walk away from keeping this up. All I can say is I hope you continue for as long as you possibly can. I personally gain so much from reading your words. When I made music, it was because it meant something to my soul and I didn't give a shit if anyone liked it or not. I don't make music anymore because I honestly don't care about creating music anymore, and I'm okay and at peace with that. It might be the same for you one day with this blog--do it for yourself, and the next time you get a comment or email and see it's from some fuckhead with his head up his ass, just fucking delete it immediately. You don't have to answer to ANYONE but yourself. You don't even have to answer to the people who like you. And if the day comes you feel at ease and you don't need to do this blog anymore, just let it go. This format doesn't have to be like a TV interview, where you have to answer to peoples' opinions. The ones who follow your thoughts will always keep coming back. Everyone else--who cares about 'em? I sure as shit don't.
ReplyDeleteHappy Birthday Bob, you are living proof that it's possible to live 33 years sober!
ReplyDeleteI really love this one! If anyone desires it slow and easy it is you!
ReplyDeleteClassic poem,
ReplyDeleteLovely... So lovely. One of my favorites of yours, but thanks for sharing all your work!
ReplyDelete~Vicky