We are in an automatic cycle. The one that keeps us twirling in the same spirals. We try to pretend that the inevitable isn’t coming. A bum visa leaving us in a situation we didn’t think would happen after two years in the same country. The same space. “Like Crazy” was written about us I am sure of it. Or it was meant to be an omen of what was to come rather.
There’s a black cloud hanging over my head”
This song reminds me of a tune I listened to before I left America. Taking a last drive down the PCH. Taking in a last sunset. Taking in the salt air. Taking in what I wanted to leave behind. Trying to forget about what I could have stayed over.
The same old habits, oh
Black leather jacket, oh
Living on automatic, oh
There’s a bad taste, there’s a bad taste in my mouth”
We are back in the cycle now. We got too comfortable when we thought ‘Netflix and chill’ could be forever. But deep down I felt anxious. Wasting time on the couch. “I should be writing. I should be working on something.” We both talk about dreams but perhaps when we are together we put them on hold. Is that what we really want? But we get along. Like my puzzle piece. When I do rest it is leaning on you for support.
Do you think there can be a good time to leave? If after all of this time, we got too cocky in it, stopped working to keep it together, that now we have to separate ways. Could this be where the road was supposed to go, to a fork and lead us both in different ways? Take what we got and keep trekking on?
When did this bed get, oh
And if you dream with me
Then we can both sleepwalk home”
I heard this song on repeat through my headphones today and for a second I flash back to my car. My little blue car. Before I moved. Before we knew what we would be. Before I knew what we would be. Before I knew what I wanted. This song pulls you in like a catchy pop tune and then you focus on what the brother/sister duo cut in with the lyrics.
XYLØ, you heal with this. Sometimes you need someone, or two, who can make beautiful earthy productions to articulate what you feel you cannot. It is a gift to be able to make things that hurt sound beautiful.