"my shadow is a monday,
my shadow is a monday,
my shadow is a monday,
my shadow is a monday.
my heart is in a shadow,
my heart is in a shadow,
my heart is in a shadow,
without you."
my shadow is a monday,
my shadow is a monday,
my shadow is a monday.
my heart is in a shadow,
my heart is in a shadow,
my heart is in a shadow,
without you."
i've always had a thing for songs with days of the week in them. i'm not sure why this is, though it is probably part to do with my affection for themes in music, especially in crafting together a mix. i re-discovered this song late last night while i was going through a stack of music mixes i've made in the past. this was the opening track of a mix i made for someone which mixed together the theme of new york and monday mornings. it was meant to be a in-transit starting your week off with coffee and song type of mix, though i'm realizing now i never sent it (well, i've never sent it - yet).
most monday songs have that tinge of sadness to them. they carry the weight of sleepy-eyes and the dreaded steps one takes to give up the taste of freedom celebrated during the weekend. something about the day, though i always took it as a begin agan and start over, that seems to inspire missing people we've lost, dwelling on heartache, and longing for the comfort and familiarity of a warm duvet, well-worn pillows, and our own bed. monday holds over itself a shadow of wistfulness, of longing and regret, and a kind of postcard sentimentality - wish i was still there.
but, for me, music is the ticket to fly out of any routine, any state of restlessness, and out of any dreadful monday. it is the way we connect, and the wings we all tuck within our 9am suits, business faces, and happy pants. we do not need masks when we close our eyes and sing. and anyway, i've always kind of liked the shadows.
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