A Song that speaks to me

I have been listening to Ray Lamontagne again recently and listening to the song Burn from his first album Trouble, I had one of those moments when you feel a song is directly speaking to you. I thought I would post the lyrics here. Have a listen (and buy the album) If you don't own it already you should.


"Burn"

Oh mama don't walk away
I'm a goddam sore loser
I ain't too proud to stay
But I'm still thinking 'bout you
And I'm so lonesome without you
And I can't get you out of my mind
Oh mama don't leave me alone
with my soul sat down so tight it's like a stone cold tomb
Ain't it clear when I'm near you
I'm just dying to hear you
Calling my name one more time
Oh so don't pay no mind
To my watering eyes
Must be something in the air
That I'm breathing
Yes'n I try to ignore
All this blood on the floor
It's just this heart on my sleeve that's a bleeding
Oh mama don't walk away
You leave me here bereaving from the words so hard and plain
Saying the love that we had
was just selfish and sad
To see you now with him
is just making me mad
Oh so kiss him again
just to prove to me that you can
an I will stand here
and burn in my skin
Yes I will stand here
and burn in my skin

Side Note

At this stage I feel it pertinent to explain a little about my life at this time. Where I was, my surroundings, the types of people I was running round with:

Basically I was living with my parents in a small town in the midlands. It was nothing special, nothing fancy, the school I went to I adored, despite it being a shithole. It was a school full of arseholes, a couple of great teachers, a range of individuals and as per the stereotype a large selection of groups from the townies to the grebos, of which I managed to move in and out of.

The local town was the haunt for us. Before we went to pubs me and my friends would buy a bottle of Strongbow (through older friends) and smoke cigarettes in parks. That was our Fridays, and they were exceptionally enjoyable, growing up with the thrill of seeing the pretty girls and learning the art of flirting, which ranged from tickling to running around undoing bras. Back then it was all so easy, all I ever had to worry about was excusing the smell of smoke on my clothes and who I was going to flirt with the next week.

As we grew older, we started spending time with older people, drugs were around, but I was never interested, didn’t seem fun to me, also I was terrified.

I sometimes go back to this town, and marvel at the younger people who have replaced us. As the years went on and we would go to the pubs, slowly the small town filter that occurs, when people move on and up and enter your world. Getting invited to an older girls birthday in a dreary town hall somewhere by a farm was a particular highlight.

When we started clubbing we graduated to a ramp in the local club in Larva Ignite in Northampton, where we would queue for what would seem like hours, staring at the girls dressed in the most atrocious outfits. It was wonderful, we never saw the end of the night as one of our group would get in a fight. Every week.

The ramp even eventually was anointed with its own Facebook page:

http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=4782423234

Looking back I remember by the end being so desperate to move to London, to separate myself from these people, but in fact the majority had hearts of gold and were wonderful people. Some were cunts.

06/01/04

Rose shows Hugo through the front door. Impressive material things are not seen (how different this makes her to Sandra). This abysmal place is quite intruding to Hugo’s perfect vision; in an almost embarrassingly feminine way planned this whole scenario out in his head.

They eat Chinese, its ok. Hugo amuses himself while he sits on Rose’s browny green, moss covered stone sofa. He must be careful not to spill any sweet and sour sauce, he wouldn’t want to spoil the décor.

Rose smoothly leads things into the bedroom (has she done this before?) they sit on the bed; it is covered in an array of bears, is this normal for an 18 year old?

Rose is very self conscious, Hugo is not surprised she is by no means perfect - beautiful definitely - but her body, breasts and stomach in particular, leave a lot to be desired. Rose switches off the lights, Hugo does not argue. He knows this will obscure his fat chest and stomach, not to mention his bad skin and average ‘equipment’.

He is hard. He rejoices silently to himself, sex is here. He will lose his virginity to a girl two years his senior, three in October. Hugo’s mind digresses, he imagines telling his friends, has he beaten Jack to it? He hopes so, that will mean he will be the second lad in the group to have lost it. It is this moment he hears the words:

“I can’t believe I’m naked in front of you.”

He laughs, he thinks he loves her despite her faults, then he realises he isn’t wearing an protection, cockily he mentions the contents of his wallet, she instead reaches for a box, out topples a condom. It’s hideously velvety touch excites him.

He is finally going to fuck; he reaches down to put it on. He is shaking now, he is turning red, he is fucking up!

“Don’t be nervous.” Her voices is tinged with a sickening twist of pity he has come to resent. He wants to fucking cry. “What’s wrong?” He has proved inadequate, Rose reaches down and feels the continually reducing mass of his enemy. Her response is so soothing: “Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

Well done for being so fucking perceptive.

Hugo is furious and now sick. Embarrassment overwhelms him, his breathing is surprisingly sterterous. She has left the room, left him alone, first she patronises him further by telling him to put the condom, which has now been denied its destiny, in the bin not in his pocket. He curses himself and his inadequacies. Hope remains however, Rose is taking it well, sweetly reassuring him now the shock of the situation has softened. She drives him home and he is now falling in love with her. When he leaves her he proceeds to beat the shit out of everything in is room, focussing most of his attention on a punch bag, that usually lays dormant in the corner of his garage. When Hugo has calmed down, he texts Rose, he expresses that he believes he is beginning to love her. He thinks to himself that if their relationship can survive this, it can survive anything. But he is naïve. They won’t survive this, their relationship means very little to Rose, she breaks up with him through the very contemporary and torturing form of text.

Hugo now sits alone cursing, crying and lashing out at inanimate objects. Because that helps! Hugo now believes he is impotent, Hugo hopes he will be able to have sex one day, even if it with the help of Viagra. (Where does one purchase Viagra?)

Hugo now pleads silently that Rose will not tell anyone. He must be nice to her, despite his feelings he must always be nice. She could destroy him, subconsciously though he knows a part of him is already destroyed. He will never be honest about these events, better becoming a new person than facing the shame of public ridicule.

He starts again. A new school year, a new start and he finds it in the wrong person…….Angie.