I've listened to this song a million times -- Pandora plays it a lot for me --, but yesterday decided I love it, and it sucked me into a wormhole of wikipedia and songmeanings dot net, and I know it's not cool to like Regina Spektor these days, but I still hold a candle for old Tori Amos, too, so I guess any illusion of that kind of coolness is out the window anyway.
So I buy it and download it today before an upheaval house-cleaning, because it's one of those songs I want badly to sing along to. And then what happens is, as I clean the bathroom sink, I remember what I read yesterday -- that Samson is about a lover of hers who had cancer -- so when the verse comes around, lyrics I've heard a million times, recall -- "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" -- I look into the bathroom mirror to see eyes shiny with tears and that ugly, strained look on my face. Go on cleaning, but soon, singing along is not even a possibility as I'm gasping back all-out tears as I sweep the bathroom floor (take the song off freaking repeat, Tannaz!).
And I guess the lesson, or the question, here is, would I have been better off just listening along with blind ears and not knowing what I was humming about? Maybe I would. I mean, is it really worth our energy to cry over the stories of strangers? Seriously, maybe not. I know, not the most uplifting message. So, let's just say this is a story of the powerful forces of music, and leave it at that.
Here's the song if you want; it's beautiful.