Skip to main content

Samson - Regina Spektor

You are my sweetest downfall
I loved you first, I loved you first
Beneath the sheets of paper lies my truth
I have to go, I have to go
Your hair was long when we first met

Samson went back to bed
Not much hair left on his head
He ate a slice of wonder bread and went right back to bed
And history books forgot about us and the bible didn't mention us
And the bible didn't mention us, not even once

You are my sweetest downfall
I loved you first, I loved you first
Beneath the stars came fallin' on our heads
But they're just old light, they're just old light
Your hair was long when we first met

Samson came to my bed
Told me that my hair was red
Told me I was beautiful and came into my bed
Oh I cut his hair myself one night
A pair of dull scissors in the yellow light
And he told me that I'd done alright
And kissed me 'til the mornin' light, the mornin' light
And he kissed me 'til the mornin' light

Samson went back to bed
Not much hair left on his head
Ate a slice of wonder bread and went right back to bed
Oh, we couldn't bring the columns down
Yeah we couldn't destroy a single one
And history books forgot about us
And the bible didn't mention us, not even once

You are my sweetest downfall
I loved you first


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Reminiscing: Ballad of a Mother's Heart

Two weeks ago, I happened to be with the "golden ladies". They were called golden ladies because they're already in their golden age: 50-something. I thought I'll feel awkward because of the age gap but in the end I was wrong. When women at my age had some chit-chats probably it would be about friends, food, fashion, work or even boys (men). On the other hand, these golden ladies were very concerned with their children, grandchildren, and their in-laws (especially). They had some outbursts on how they don't like their in-laws and on how pitiful their children for having the wrong choice of husband/wife. That's when I remembered a poem during my gradeschool. This poem was written by Jose La Villa Tierra. It speaks on the love of parents for their children, how forgiving and how great the love of a mother is for her son/daughter although he/she has hurt her very much. Ballad of a Mother's Heart The night was dark, For the moon was young, And the Stars were a

Oh What A Rain!

I visited the PAG-ASA site today and according to them: Central and Southern Luzon and Visayas will experience monsoon rains. The rest of the country will have mostly cloudy skies with scattered rainshowers and thunderstorms. Moderate to strong winds blowing from the southwest will prevail over Central and Southern Luzon, Visayas and Mindanao and the coastal waters along these areas will be moderate to rough. Elsewhere, winds will be light to moderate coming from the southwest and northwest with slight to moderate seas except during thunderstorms. The rain will probably be pouring down for the next few days. Thinking about waiting for the sunny days, I remembered a song I used to sing with my grade school classmates: If all the raindrops were lemon drops and gum drops Oh, what a rain that would be! I’d stand outside with my mouth open wide—– Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah Oh, what a rain that would be! There's a Tagalog ve

First Love DIES....

I was 15 , when I first saw the spark in him. I've known him since our freshmen days, but it was during that year when I felt something special for him. I would say he was definitely a hearthob. He stole the hearts of many girls but it took him 2 years to have mine. He was the kindest guy I’ve ever met. With those expressive eyes and warm smile, he simply took my breath away. But my young and restless heart knew that he could never be mine. He was just someone I can admire from a distance. Everytime I sign on my classmates' autographs, I marked his initials on the question, ‘who is your crush?’ I even used codenames just to keep my little secret. I wrote some forgotten poems at the back of my notebooks just to express the feelings I kept inside. But these never made me a good writer nor a poet. But a damsel with a story to tell. My classmates in high school, even in college already heard same old story. I was consistent and never hid that precious feeling. ‘I shall return!’ I