Carolina Rain
Rose lived on the south side of town
Until her landlord showed up with two hundred dollar bills
A notice of eviction on the other hand
Now she don't live there no more
And everyone thinks he drowned
I pulled into Mecklenburg on them trains
Into a station that got flooded when they opened up the dam
And broke their connections to the railway lines
So they could blast into the quarry
And for every load of granite
We got a ton of worry
One night at the diner over eggs
Over easy she showed me the length of her legs
But that gold plated cross on her neck, it was real
And you don't get that kind of money from pushing meal
I should've told him that you were the one for me
But I lied, but I lied
To most any drifter whose looking for work is too weird
I met your sister and I married her in July
But if only to be closer to you, Caroline
Percy and I moved down the street
Until we lost two pretty girls
One was seven and one was three
Alderman and Caroline owned the house right up the hill
Where we laid those babies down
So they could still see our house
Suspicion got the best of old Alderman Haint
He owned an auto parts store off the interstate
But the lord took him home in July
And then Rose spilled the beans on the day that he died
We was in trouble
I should've told him that you were the one for me
But I lied, but I lied
Tied up to concrete at the bottom of the quarry
With a tattoo on his heart that spelled out "Caroline"
He was silent but his rosary
Well, it drifted into the custody
Of a sheriff that was just deputized
And I was down at the banquet hall
When two guys came up, pretty angry and drunk
And I'm still here at the banquet hall
At the banquet hall
Where the gun went off in the Carolina rain
In the Carolina rain
In the Carolina rain
Oh, Caroline
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-J4GPnmYy_0
Incredible, how deeply intense and colourful not a few things happening in life appear having been put in a story...
Ryan Adams is a master in this, as had been Johnny Cash and many others. Each time I listen to such words I feel proud belonging to the human race with an amazing ability to speak and tell stories.
But why the hell appears the field of enlightment and awakening in different ways? Why so less words of poetry and spirit?
The spirit of poetry is truly a spirit of life. If we would be aware, we would even find life in Baudelaire`s deep "Flowers of the evil"... see http://fleursdumal.org/
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