I Need to stop listening to this song

Lately, I’ve fallen back into the habit of looping a song by Mojave 3. called Prayer for the Paranoid. My whole looping problem has gotten to the point where I’ll burn a CD just so I can listen to the same damn song play while I’m in the shower. I’m not sure why it is, but when I get stuck on a song I can really get stuck on a song.

This one though, shifts around on me. At times, I’ll sing the words while walking down the street like a sort of mantra (only when no one else is around, or who can hear of course). There’s a distant sadness to the words, to the singer’s voice and the single acoustic guitar playing in the background. The lyrics read more as a letter than a prayer, but I guess they’re really the same thing. The song is sad, but sad like nostalgia.

To be honest, I love the first verse. I love the chorus. And I love the very last few lines. The middle part… is ok. But it’s the opening I really dig:

I¥ll send you a letter
From the frontline
Please send applause
And some good advice
You were born with a compass
A map on your table
Tell me how did you find out
Your bearings were wrong

This morning though, the whole song made me particularly sad. There’s nothing specific I could point to, but I found it revealing that I was easily able to swap out a multitude of things that were bothering me. It wasn’t the song that made me feel low, per se, but an apparent array of things that I highlighted through the lyrics.

Mainly, I think it’s still those Big Questions that are looming around. In Journalism school, newbie reporters are always taught to answer the Big Five early on in any article: Who, What, When, Where, Why. Were I asked to write an article about my life, I’m not even sure where I’d begin.