When the woman you thought was gonna be there forever just up and goes away - as mysteriously as she first appeared - You just lie there at night wondering just what parts were real. How did this happen? Two ways, gradually and then suddenly. I can remember looking at her one night in awe of how much I loved her, or at least of how much I felt when I looked at her face. Chemestry, or biology or whatever's amazing really. I dont know. Astounding how the wounds take place, how they repeat all through your life like some bad b-movie noir script...
Now I play my gigs and I feel this connection with my boys. Some nights we're able to make magic - no seriously, this band I got could weave gold out of dog shit - some primitive alchemy that soothes the raw wounds at one's core. By the end of the night my guitar's in my trunk and I'm back in the the night, out on the road - the buring heat - my brain reals at what I just took part in. And I want to let some one know and I want to go back to that lost and gone sweet love I thought was gonna save me - But I walk now, only with strangers - I talk now only with strangers - I move with angels that got no place.
Last night at Tom Hucks place something bordering on astounding went down. I started out swinging wildly at the ones I love the most - I did it in public - brothers fight - brothers jab and claw each other like young animals (I swear I used to be young!) So I hid out - back in the wharehouse space with all my worldly possesions and I screamed inside -and I wept out loud, then I went back out, put my dark glasses on and fronted my band in that glorious room - industrial wasteland - sweat soaked and smokey, contruction lamp bulb burning my eyes - all darkness beyond that one burning spot cept for momentary flashes of a camera light and,
"OH my god there's a room full of people out!" and the next second they're gone and back into black
And we wailed - And we wailed - And we wailed - And we wailed!!! And all that pain we all hide inside shot out my mouth and Matty's guitar and his wails and every player spewed their passage, spoke their truth - battered their axe and some how we all came out more whole.
Something had taken place beyond the realm of what we come to expect in situations like this - somthing like the shit mystics seek - and I truly almost felt sorry for everyone there, not one of the five of us - We alley ghosts - You dont get to be this for free - there's a cost involved that not everyone's gonna be able to pay - Sometimes you gotta give away everything and everyone you ever held dear, or be willing to...and then we move on into the night again, all solitary an'shit - But we get to take part in magic. And on some nights it feels SO worth the price you pay.
