Lyrics...

Okay, so to force myself to post here a bit more often I am going to comment on musical lyrics. Now those that know me can guess where 95% or more of the songs will come from. But, I will try to once in a while toss in a curve ball...

So, our first lyric comes from Rush's album Signals.


Losing It



The dancer slows her frantic pace
In pain and desperation,
Her aching limbs and downcast face
Aglow with perspiration

Stiff as wire, her lungs on fire,
With just the briefest pause
The flooding through her memory,
The echoes of old applause.

She limps across the floor
And closes her bedroom door...

The writer stares with glassy eyes
Defies the empty page
His beard is white, his face is lined

And streaked with tears of rage.

Thirty years ago, how the words would flow
With passion and precision,
But now his mind is dark and dulled
By sickness and indecision

And he stares out the kitchen door
Where the sun will rise no more...

Some are born to move the world
To live their fantasies
But most of us just dream about
The things we'd like to be
Sadder still to watch it die
Than never to have known it
For you, the blind who once could see
The bell tolls for thee...

Now why this song? The first part paints an interesting picture. But it is really the second verse were this song really starts to shine. "The writer stares with glassy eyes/Defies the empty page/His beard is white, his face is lined" A better verbal picture of Ernest Hemingway doesn't really exist.

The song goes on to comment on once having an amazing ability to communicate your passion and to see that ability disappear.

The last three line call out to those artist (what ever their chosen medium) and gives them some small measure of recognition.