“I could make you satisfied in everything you do,
all your ‘secret wishes’ could right now be coming true,
and be forever with my poison arms around you.”
It was on the road to work this morning that I heard this song, a song I have heard, and sung along to, millions of times, and yet it hit me in that way that almost feels new, this morning. Perhaps it was because I slept so poorly last night and was looking out with half-awake eyes, my perspective slightly skewed as I tried hard to concentrate and stay alert. My gaze wandered without wanting, the city flying by my smudged driver’s side window pane. First it was the studio signs and the slight glimpse of a protest sign, all blurring together, and then the sight of a woman pushing an empty baby carriage filled with torn paper bags, which bled into the man with the too-small pony tail, plugged into his blue tooth headset, speeding off in a red convertible.
It felt like the city was suddenly this slide show of hope and despair, disarray and rebirth, voices and silence. In the midst of all this juxtaposition and contradiction Elliott Smith’s lyrics of zeroes, wishes and poison arrows, well they just resonated.
i felt like the city was suddenly this slideshow of hope and despair, disarray and rebirth, voices and silence. and, somehow in all of this, elliot’s lyrics of zeroes, wishes and poison arms, it just resonated.
Angeles :: Elliott Smith