Cracking and college...

I saw Suzanne Vega on television today. I first got into her in college and we just loved her lyrics. She was more a poet than a song writer. Minimalist and poetic. It was nice to see that she is still writing and performing. She looks great and almost the same as she did so many years ago. I have to buy some more of her music as I only have the first album. I don't know where the rest of them went. I am sure I used to have them. I know I have been scarce here. Busy at work etc. I think that will lessen.

"Cracking"

It's a one time thing
It just happens
A lot
Walk with me
And we will see
What we have got
Ah...

My footsteps are ticking
Like water dripping from a tree
Walking a hairline
And stepping very carefully
Ah...

My heart is broken
It is worn out at the knees
Hearing muffled
Seeing blind
Soon it will hit the Deep Freeze

And something is cracking
I don't know where
Ice on the sidewalk
Brittle branches
In the air

The sun
Is blinding
Dizzy golden, dancing green
Through the park in the afternoon
Wondering where the hell
I have been
Ah...

Suzanne Vega, self titled.
1985

Cracking and college...

I saw Suzanne Vega on television today. I first got into her in college and we just loved her lyrics. She was more a poet than a song writer. Minimalist and poetic. It was nice to see that she is still writing and performing. She looks great and almost the same as she did so many years ago. I have to buy some more of her music as I only have the first album. I don't know where the rest of them went. I am sure I used to have them. I know I have been scarce here. Busy at work etc. I think that will lessen.

"Cracking"

It's a one time thing
It just happens
A lot
Walk with me
And we will see
What we have got
Ah...

My footsteps are ticking
Like water dripping from a tree
Walking a hairline
And stepping very carefully
Ah...

My heart is broken
It is worn out at the knees
Hearing muffled
Seeing blind
Soon it will hit the Deep Freeze

And something is cracking
I don't know where
Ice on the sidewalk
Brittle branches
In the air

The sun
Is blinding
Dizzy golden, dancing green
Through the park in the afternoon
Wondering where the hell
I have been
Ah...

Suzanne Vega, self titled.
1985