Pungsnotded

Another Webley Wednesday

October 1st, 2008

 

 Catharsis. I don’t mean any of that pyscho-babble type catharsis, either. I am talking some straight-up  Greek catharsis. The blood. The a washing. The blood. There is no act without ritual. There is no verbatim ritual. There is no repetition. The Art in the performance is right here, right now. The blood spills, the sweat pours, the words are the words. Greek Mythology exists even without the words. The problem is still the problem, people. Don’t look back. Don’t look back until you get there.

 

 

Watch this video, and then go ahead and buy some Jason Webley music, because if anyone were to make some rocks dance, the J. Web.  could do it!

 www.jasonwebley.com

Lyrics:

I walked across a continent
where children did not bat an eye
when made to watch their mothers die
they left the bodies by the sides of roads
where only willows cried
yes even my own eyes were dry
when somehow there I lost my bride
the ring slipped free and fell beneath the earth

so like Orpheus I bowed and went far underneath the firmaments
my harp strings broke
my voice was spent
I kissed my lady’s hand and sent
my two weeks notice with my rent
and she grew cold and softly said
I am not your lover I’m the map you use to find her
I am not your lover
I’m just a map you use to find her

I step outside my room once more
and see what I have seen before
another ship washed to my shore
a figure walking towards my door
her face is tired her dress is torn
I look into her eyes and feel her thirst

she says I’ve come across these waters
high pressed on by such auspicious signs
I’ve watched the stars and read the tides
the winds have brought me to your side
I come to you
I am your bride
and I grew cold as I replied
that I am not your lover,
I’m the map you used to find him
I am not your lover
I’m just a map you use to find him.

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