The dialogue between what’s going on in the world and what’s going on internally seems to be a natural thing – well, it’s natural to me, anyway, to have these thoughts.
Take me. I’m an ordinary player in the key of C. And my will was broken by my pride and my vanity. Who’s gonna love you when you’re looks are gone? God will. Like he waters the flowers on your window sill.
I suppose an artist takes the elements of his life and rearranges them and then has them perceived by others as though they were the elements of their lives.
In the clearing stands the boxer, and a fighter by his trade. And he carries a reminder of every glove that laid him down, or cut him till he cried out in his anger and his shame “I am leaving! I am leaving” but the fighter still remains.
Having a track record to live up to and the history of successes had become a hindrance. It becomes harder to break out of what people expect you to do.
Time it was And what a time it was, it was A time of innocence A time of confidences Long ago it must be I have a photograph Preserve your memories They’re all that’s left you.
