Oh, not to touch a hair on your head

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Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds – Into My Arms

Just like Nick Cave sings in that deep, earthy voice that you can just tell knows so much more than you ever will, I don’t believe in God. I don’t believe in the intelligent entity with one name who waved his wand from a cloud in the sky, declared ‘Let there be light!’ and from that point on there was. I don’t believe, because I can’t believe, that a soldier, whether he be proudly swathed in his country’s uniform or simply marching in his own clothes, own shoes and to his own beat, must invade, torture, murder, because the God he believes in is the right one. The God he believes in is the same one you do, but you believe in the wrong way. Another human who opens his mouth and with a struggling gasp works his lungs to suck in air just to live, the same air you take into your body to live just the same. But you are not the same. Your God is right. His God cannot be. Another man whose heart beats, maybe a little faster than yours but it beats all the same and I know you know it beats the same because you can feel it in your own chest. Put your hand to your chest and feel. He feels the same. But your God is right, his God is wrong. A heart living under skin the same as yours beats and pumps blood around his body, pumps blood through his fingers that crack and bend and will pull a trigger because you kneel down to your God in the wrong kind of building. So I can’t believe. But just like Nick Cave sings in that voice full of heartache and promise, I believe in love.

And I know that you do too.

Because my feet scrape the pavement just the same as your feet scrape the path you walk along, wondering the same things I’m wondering. I lay down at night and my eyelids flicker as pictures from my subconscious dance in front of my sleeping eyes, I dream just the same as you do. I have told lies and I have kissed strangers and I have been scared of the dark. You have admitted mistakes and you have fallen in love and you have grazed your knee. You can kneel in your church to your God but I won’t kneel to anything other than what I feel, and that should be alright. [Buy.]

We’ve had Léa over for words (1) before, and she was that damn delightful that we asked her to come by again. She did, and we’re pleased. Elsewhere: she occasionally jots something down at Wanderlust / Wonderlust so stop by, say hello, fall head over heels.

One Response to “Oh, not to touch a hair on your head”

  1. Jonathan says:

    Mercurial, literary comment on an equally as mercurial artist. Fine writing Léa, I look forward to the next… 🙂

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