Friday, June 13, 2008

yearns for a sleep that will never come

lover you should've come over (live) ~ jeff buckley

"looking out the door i see the rain fall upon the funeral mourners
parading in a wake of sad relations as their shoes fill up with water
and maybe i'm too young
to keep good love from going wrong
but tonight you're on my mind so
(you'll never know)

i'm broken down and hungry for your love with no way to feed it
where are you tonight? child, you know how much i need it.
too young to hold on and too old to just break free and run

sometimes a man gets carried away,
when he feels like he should be having his fun
and much too blind to see the damage he's done
sometimes a man must awake to find that, really,
he has no-one...

so i'll wait for you...
and i'll burn oh
will i ever see your sweet return,
oh, will i ever learn
lover, you should've come over
'cause it's not too late.

lonely is the room the bed is made
the open window lets the rain in
burning in the corner is the only one who dreams he had you with him
my body turns
and yearns for a sleep that will never come

it's never over,
my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder
it's never over,
all my riches for her smiles when i slept so soft against her...
it's never over,
all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter
it's never over,
she is the tear that hangs inside my soul forever

maybe I'm just too young
to keep good love from going wrong
oh... lover you should've come over...
'cause it's not too late...

i feel too young to hold on
i'm much too old to break free and run
too deaf, dumb, and blind
to see the damage i've done
sweet lover, you should've come over
oh, love i waited for you
lover, you should've come over
'cause it's not too late"

it was eleven years ago this month that the world lost jeff buckley. it seems near unbelievable, the ever-turning and spinning passage of time. i remember the first time i heard grace, and this song in particular. i was working at tower, surrounded by music every moment of every day (not that that has changed much), alongside of people who became a temporary family-of-sorts to me. shelley and alan were talking about the album, both raving about it in their own unique ways, and bantering on about which song they loved, and how much jeff just bled emotion into every moment of the entire album. i had never heard these two agree on anything, least of all a musician.

this i had to hear.

the album, and this song, would come to mean different things to me at various turns and times of my life. it reminds me of those days stocking cd shelves and talking intensely about music, while earning barely above minimum wage. i lived back home then, me and jules, who was just starting pre-school. i was younger in those days, younger than i was ever before, or again.

it brings to mind the weeks i spent in las vegas. one night in particular, up all night with a conversation that veered and swayed, and went so deep that you'd have sworn we'd known each other since childhood, or before. it was the first time i had ever been scared as fuck when faced with the possibility of love, of soul-connecting, of something real. it still taps me on the shoulder and asks "tell me again why you ran like hell from it?"

a more recent memory, reading a 33 1/3 book on the album while riding on the red line train, in chicago. the city and the neighborhoods swooshing by just outside the window. i thought i'd still be there, carving out a new life, and yet running still. the cold air, the itchy feel of a scarf wound too tight, and too close to my skin, and the feeling of being so lost that i wanted someone else to find me, for me.

and tonight, with my ears stuffed with tiny speakers, the music turned on a bit too loud (always), and hitting repeat. it reminds me of tiffanie's grace and trixie, of the ocean, of lost hope, and of the sense of innocence i once had. it also brings to light the way i feel music, the way i take it in, and how grateful i am that it gifts me feeling. within that sense of feeling, and within the music, perhaps i see the bliss in life, the good things i have, and the hope in that. i hang on to it in times like these, as i struggle with sadness - to remember, to feel, to sing, and to hope.

thank you for the music, jeff.

1 comment:

Tom said...

"Last Goodbye" was the last song played on the late, lamented WHFS when it went all-Spanish a few years ago.

Anyway, I don't know if you've ever read "Killing Yourself to Live" by Chuck Klosterman but he's got an ... interesting take on Buckley.