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Before you leave

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Every now and again, something comes into your – space – for lack of a better term – that touches you.

Thank you, David, for sharing this on your blog so I could share it on mine.

Live & Learn

Josh Farrow is an Illinois-born kid who played punk rock music as a teenager, eventually headed to Nashville in his early 20s to chase after his future wife — pulling triple-duty as lead singer, songwriter and ringleader.  He is inspired by the New Orleans funk of Allen Touissant and the Chicago blues of his hometown — chasing down success on his own terms, bringing with him a sound that’s smoky, soulful, and signature.

“Before You Leave,” was a finalist in the John Lennon Songwriting Competition.  

This old house feels empty
There’s nothing I can hear
But the sad and silent echo
Of better years

I feel something breathe
In this dead and hollow room
It’s just this heavy old heart
That’s hanging on you

So before you leave
Darling, won’t you le me down easy?
Before you go
Won’t you help me ease my achin’ bones?
So before…

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8 thoughts on “Before you leave”

  1. Such sad words! Researching for my nano novel I see the top song for 1957 was “Heartbreak Hotel” by Elvis. I guess crying the blues has been around for ages.
    “Alas my love ye do me wrong
    to cast me off so discourteously…”
    “Greensleeves” 🙂

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  2. Even before I met The Viking and his Abba Worship Complex, this song killed me. He didn’t even know lyrics and couldn’t figure out why it’s one of my favorites. :o)

    Chiquitita, tell me what’s wrong
    You’re enchained by your own sorrow
    In your eyes there is no hope for tomorrow
    How I hate to see you like this
    There is no way you can deny it
    I can see that you’re oh so sad, so quiet

    Also, the Josh Farrow song is wonderful. :o)

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  3. Oh am all over this. Thanks for stringing it up here. It is good shtufffs, no other way to butter it. Though a one time Punker, changing t-shirts is really not an anomaly as one might think, others come to mind, specifically and in this country, John K Samson. Poetry will go to bed with any genre, art form etc. Punk was poetic in it’s own way. Thanks again. Stay warm, there is a rumour going around winter is here.

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