Early 90's -- imagine a passionate young couple walking along a nondescript highway w/ a pair of battered guitar cases in tow. Imagine their conversations, after knowing each other's likes and dislikes for fourteen storied months. Imagine them stopping under a bridge because of the clear rain that caught them off guard. Imagine that we stop to help them because, as they sit close on a steel rail, they wear the look of harmless whimsy and are embedded in depths of funtastic love. Imagine that we talk openly and freely and w/ a commonality between us. Imagine that they even resemble us when I glimpse at them in the rearview mirror. Imagine that he's the talent and she's the spontaneity. Imagine that they stopped by for an unexpected visit last weekend. Imagine the years gone thru and the songs written, about each other and for each other. Imagine them serenading us. And imagine that I said, "Wow, I've always liked the Sound of Walls."
Sunday, December 20, 2009
The Sound of Walls
Early 90's -- imagine a passionate young couple walking along a nondescript highway w/ a pair of battered guitar cases in tow. Imagine their conversations, after knowing each other's likes and dislikes for fourteen storied months. Imagine them stopping under a bridge because of the clear rain that caught them off guard. Imagine that we stop to help them because, as they sit close on a steel rail, they wear the look of harmless whimsy and are embedded in depths of funtastic love. Imagine that we talk openly and freely and w/ a commonality between us. Imagine that they even resemble us when I glimpse at them in the rearview mirror. Imagine that he's the talent and she's the spontaneity. Imagine that they stopped by for an unexpected visit last weekend. Imagine the years gone thru and the songs written, about each other and for each other. Imagine them serenading us. And imagine that I said, "Wow, I've always liked the Sound of Walls."
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