A haunting song resounds in your head continuously and its every line flows into the next in lingering waves that stretch on and on and on. Do violins really play the most stirring music because they most resemble the human voice? I used to say that the lyrics in a song are what mean most to me. But then I forget about that twinge of heartache felt upon hearing that special squeak an acoustic guitar makes between chords, in a thoughtful song played in the dead of the night. I forget that a simple plucking of strings can awaken convictions you never yet knew you had.
Are convoluted sentences always to be corrected and trimmed down to become pert, lithe ones who get to their point straight? If by their roundaboutness they deign to have you linger a little longer on them, as they slyly make imprints upon your memory while you ponder them, won't you give them that?
Andrew Bird's cover of The Handsome Family's
The Giant of Illinois found in the Dark Was The Night compilation is an elegiac gem of a song that has been drifting in and out of my mind.