You know that point in your life when you realize that the house that you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of the sudden even though you have some place where you can put your stuff that idea of home is gone. It's like you get homesick for a place that doesn't exist. You won't have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for your kids, for the family you start, it's like a cycle or something. I miss the idea of it. Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people who miss the same imaginary place.
I got the somethin' that makes me wanna shout I got that thing, tell me what it's all about I got soul, ha, and I'm super bad, heh! Got the move that tells me what to do Sometimes I feel so nice, I said I wanna tie myself to a fuse, huh, I I, I, I got soul, heh, and I'm super bad!
My father grew up in St. Louis worshiping this man - the blues, the songs, the energy above all else. He used to tell me stories about going to the Firehouse to see James and being the only white kid in the crowd. I can understand it. Crazy he may be, but listening to Livin' in America on full blast in the living room while your usually stiff and serious father lets loose on the floor just gives you a sense of just how magical music is.