Archive for category relationships
“Muoio Per Te” I Die for You (English Translation) – Sting and Zucchero
Posted by asad123 in art, Christianity, Music, relationships on May 13, 2012
Here are the original Italian lyrics: http://www.lyricsfreak.com/z/zucchero/muoio+per+te+feat+sting_20261521.html/
Here is a very rough web translation:
| I Die for You
Just a step away from Jerusalem And just one mile from the Moon Under a sky of millions of stele I heart lost in a distant planet That goes around and falls down? With strings of sadness I die for you
And if my kingdom becomes sand And falls into the sea I die for you
And fuses dark valleys Ancient songs of sadness But every step I thought of you Each step only to you For each star a grain of sand The leftovers of a dry sea Tell me how much time, how much longer!
There? a city? In the wilderness, and rests The vanity? An ancient king But the city? Rest in pieces Where the wind howls at the vulture What did the man With the ambition? All this I make? My life is a prison If you’re the bride to another
That my enemies are free I fall and I am here, That I die for you?
And just as ever, Just like now? With all of my domain What are here, I’m nothing? There are victories In our stories, no love!
Just a step away from Jerusalem And just one mile from the Moon Under a sky of millions of stars A heart lost in a distant planet That goes around and falls down? With strings of sadness I die for you
And even if you have the keys And destroy that which I have Every prison in dust Enemies? I do not have them. The reigns of my sand That go on the bottom of the sea, I die for you |
Becoming Real Muslims
Posted by asad123 in Education, Islam, relationships on May 12, 2012
Today I want to take a break from song analyses and talk about Islam. This could become a khutba or a short talk in the future.
We all say we want to be like Rasulullah (S) and the Sahabah ( R) but none of us are even slightly close.
We need to get serious about this deen.
Most people want to make jokes – they want to be seen as people who are funny, who have a good time.
What about being pious? We don’t even like it when other people call us pious. There’s a difference between piety and self-righteousness. Piety is when you do a good job of fulfilling the duties that Allah has given us all. Self-righteousness is when you use the deen as a weapon to make people feel small or to feel guilty. Piety is something we ought to seek in ourselves. Self-righteousness is something we must avoid.
We have stopped doing the basic things that make Muslims Muslim. One of the first things a typical non-Muslim learns about Islam is that Muslims pray five times a day. When non-Muslims ask you if you pray five times a day, what do you say? Often the answer, is “Ummm. (Pause). Well, I try” or perhaps, “I don’t pray.” And isn’t this embarrassing? Our prayer habits are so poor that they embarrass us in front of people who hardly pray at all. Then how much more shame will we feel if we have to face Allah, Allah Who is Holy and Flawless, with severe problems in our prayer?
We don’t pray like Muslims. We don’t speak with the manners of Muslims. We don’t prohibit the things Islam prohibits. We don’t urge people to do the things that Islam urges. So on what grounds are we claiming that we are Muslim? My grandmother, who is no longer living, inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi rajioon, used to make the dua, “Ya Allah, make the Muslims true Muslims.” In the past decade, American Muslims have made great strides in dawah, and dawah is very important because we need to invite the world to the truth and beauty of Islam. But you cannot give something you don’t have. We are very hopeful when someone accepts Islam and part of it is because we know new people can bring new energy to the Ummah. But just hoping that new converts will save the Ummah is an illusion. Hope is not a strategy. You need to do hard work to learn the deen, understand the deen and then teach the deen.
At-Tirmidhi reports that Prophet Muhammad (S) said, “Holding onto one’s religion in the time of corruption will be like holding on to hot coal.” I think we feel this as a community, this intense struggle to defend our iman. It seems like the outside world wants us to abandon Islam, to reject it as old-fashioned, to renounce it as cruel. In history, there are many examples of people who could have anything in the world they desired, if they would just forsake Islam. Even today we see examples of this. The Bosnians would have been welcomed with open arms by other Europeans if they would just become Christian or atheist. But they kept Islam at the cost of their lives. How many of the neighbors of Israel like Jordan, Lebanon, and Syria could have massive foreign aid and international support, if they would just leave Islam?
“And hold fast, all together, by the rope which Allah (stretches out for you), and be not divided among yourselves” [Al Quran (3:103)] It is very difficult to hold on to a hot coal, but it is very easy to hold on to a rope. And yet in these metaphors, both times we are holding on to the same thing – iman. But they are describing totally different aspects of our lives of faith. What makes it difficult to hold on to iman is the fasad, the corruption widespread around us. What makes it easy to hold on to iman is ukhuwa, the brotherhood and sisterhood that unites us. We all have strengths and weaknesses in our practice of the deen. Working together, supporting each other, advising each other is how we become stronger as individuals and as a community. Please don’t think I am saying brotherhood is free of challenges. Brotherhood will make things easier by giving us more resources to draw on, but establishing brotherhood or sisterhood takes time, work, and patience.
We also need to cut out distractions. Clearly we have a limited amount of time each day. Some things we do are worth our time and some clearly are not. It is not my purpose here to single out any one thing that wastes time. We all need to decide for ourselves what is wasting our time. Even things that are halal are sometimes best avoided because they are getting in the way of our obligations. And certainly things which the Shariah forbids have no place in our lives.
We need to commit to a process of tazkiya, purification. I really feel ashamed of some of my vices that persist year after year. There are things I have conquered and there are things that are a daily struggle for me. This is not the time or place for me to talk about my own problems, especially since you may have a completely different set of problems from mine. I am very much in favor of taking a hard accounting of one’s self and being brutally honest when one is alone. We don’t want to be people who keep becoming worse and worse in character. We don’t want to be people who never change. We want to be the people of consistent personal progress. These are the people of Jannah.
Song Analysis – “Payphone (feat. Wiz Khalifa)” Maroon 5
Posted by asad123 in art, Music, relationships on April 21, 2012
[Adam Levine]
I’m at a payphone trying to call home
All of my change I spent on you
Where have the times gone
Baby it’s all wrong, where are the plans we made for two?
Yeah, I, I know it’s hard to remember
The people we used to be
It’s even harder to picture
That you’re not here next to me
You say it’s too late to make it
But is it too late to try?
And in our time that you wasted
All of our bridges burned down
I’ve wasted my nights
You turned out the lights
Now I’m paralyzed
Still stuck in that time when we called it love
But even the sun sets in paradise
I’m at a payphone trying to call home
All of my change I spent on you
Where have the times gone
Baby it’s all wrong, where are the plans we made for two?
If happy ever after did exist
I would still be holding you like this
All those fairytales are full of sh*t
One more stupid love song I’ll be sick
You turned your back on tomorrow
Cause you forgot yesterday
I gave you my love to borrow
But just gave it away
You can’t expect me to be fine
I don’t expect you to care
I know I’ve said it before
But all of our bridges burned down
I’ve wasted my nights
You turned out the lights
Now I’m paralyzed
Still stuck in that time when we called it love
But even the sun sets in paradise
I’m at a payphone trying to call home
All of my change I spent on you
Where have the times gone
Baby it’s all wrong, where are the plans we made for two?
If happy ever after did exist
I would still be holding you like this
All those fairytales are full of sh*t
One more stupid love song I’ll be sick
Now I’m at a payphone…
[Wiz Khalifa]
Man work that sh*t
I’ll be out spending all this money while you sitting round
Wondering why it wasn’t you who came up from nothing
Made it from the bottom
Now when you see me I’m stunning
And all of my cars start with the push up a button
Telling me the chances I blew up or whatever you call it
Switched the number to my phone
So you never could call it
Don’t need my name on my show
You can tell it I’m ballin’
Swish, what a shame could have got picked
Had a really good game but you missed your last shot
So you talk about who you see at the top
Or what you could’ve saw
But sad to say it’s over for
Phantom pulled up valet open doors
Wiz like go away, got what you was looking for
Now ask me who they want
So you can go and take that little piece of sh*t with you
[Adam Levine]
I’m at a payphone trying to call home
All of my change I spent on you
Where have the times gone
Baby it’s all wrong, where are the plans we made for two?
If happy ever after did exist
I would still be holding you like this
All those fairytales are full of sh*t
One more stupid love song I’ll be sick
Now I’m at a payphone…
[I like this line, "Still stuck in that time when we called it love
But even the sun sets in paradise" It's hard to let go of warm memories of someone you love. Just as the sun sets in paradise, all things come to an end in this world.
"Where have the times gone
Baby it's all wrong, where are the plans we made for two?"
In "Eat, Pray, Love," Elizabeth Gilbert writes about how in English sadness can be a place. When a person consoles a friend, she might say, "I've been there." She means that she also has been in this dark place in the soul. And though it seems that point is an absolute dead end, a black hole from which not even light can escape, in fact, she too has been there and has come back. She has lived to tell the tale.
Literally, "Where have all the times gone?" doesn't make sense. Time passes, but the past doesn't go anywhere. There is no place where the things we experienced still exist. And yet, there is a sense to it. It's a way of saying, "We don't have the kind of moments we used to have. I keep looking for them, but they're nowhere to be found." The singer continues, "Where all the plans we made for two?" Now instead of looking for the past, he is looking for the future, not the future as it exists, but the ideal future he imagined.
There is a touching poignancy to the line, 'If happy ever after did exist/
I would still be holding you like this." The speaker has lost hope. He realizes now that his dreams may never come true.]
Poem Analysis “anyone lived in a pretty how town” e.e. cummings
Posted by asad123 in Christianity, Family, Poems, relationships on April 7, 2012
Poem Analysis – “anyone lived in a pretty how town”
anyone lived in a pretty how town by E. E. Cummings
anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn’t he danced his did
[ee cummings is famous for his unconventional use of language. Notice how the lines begin with lower case letters rather than capitals. See how he uses “didn’t” and “did” as nouns even though they are verbs. If you know the poem “Jabberwocky” by Lewis Carroll, you may see parallels here, as the poet uses nonsense that almost magically makes sense.]
Women and men(both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn’t they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain
[There is a pun here where it says “women and men. . . cared for anyone not at all.” “Anyone” refers both to the main character of this poem and the traditional meaning of “anyone” that is “some person.” These men and women do not care for Anyone and they do not care for any person.]
children guessed(but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more
[This seems to be about the innocence you lose as you grow. There is a certain power one loses with age, an ability to wonder, a curiosity, a type of sincerity. Notice how the sequence of seasons has changed from “spring summer autumn winter” to “autumn winter spring summer.” The poet introduces "noone," the beloved of "anyone."]
when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone’s any was all to her
[Whoever has experienced loneliness will appreciate the line, “she laughed his joy she cried his grief.” Sometimes we ask too much from people when all we really want is someone who will be there, supporting us, in good times and bad.]
someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)they
said their nevers they slept their dream
[In the movie, “The Guru,” Vijay says, “Do you know why they call it the American Dream? Because it only happens when you are asleep.” There are people who try to live their dreams and there are others who only dream when they are asleep. Anyone and noone are dream-livers.]
stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)
[The poet is saying something about how nature witnesses everything and is timeless while people are bound by time and very limited in their senses.]
one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was
all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes.
Women and men(both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain
[I wonder if Cummings was inspired by Eastern philosophy because “dong” and “ding” remind me of “yang” and “yin.” He pairs “reap” and “sow” again here, likely hearkening to the Biblical proverb, “whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.” (Galatians 6:7) It is funny to me that Cummings uses a modern style that overturns conventions of grammar and usage while communicating a very ancient message. The message I get is that time is cyclical, nature is cyclical, and thus our lives are bound to be cyclical. We sometimes worry that the end of time is coming or that society has completely degenerated and yet so much of history, so much of our relationships are cyclical. So are we headed to the END and are we merely at 359 degrees headed back to the beginning of the circle?}
The Child is Father of the Man – A Poem by David Huerta
Posted by asad123 in Music, Poems, relationships on February 29, 2012
I don’t know how to seek you out inside me
child that I was: whether I have to scrape
with gritted nails
in memory’s plot
or call you forth with drastic invocations
I don’t believe in.
You’re lost – not lost to yourself:
only to me. But all the same I’m you,
or so they say, the ones who seem to know
more about me than I do, or than you do.
In the time that’s given to a life
you had your own time,
wide and stretching out as far as
the edge, the margin of endless play.
I know you played once as I’m playing now:
but this isn’t to meet you. I’m your repetition
- if only in the curtailed splendour
of the game, its guilt and innocence.
Wordsworth declares that you’re my father:
himself playing a weird and wild game
with the years, succession
and genetics. For my assembled parts,
the biological thing,
I had another father
- and now he’s dead. But you’re alive.
No doubt about it – you’re alive
like a pulsing shadow
inside me. Yet I have no knowledge of this ‘inside’.
When I examine the interior of what I am
I find a mass of inchoate forms
that even by an effort of memory
are barely distinguishable.
But you are there – untouchable, invisible.
Come closer. I sometimes think
you don’t want to
for fear I’ll kill you. Or that deftly
you elude me
out of an unfathomable
will to hide. Then I suspect
you have no fear of me -
as the shadow has no fear of the body
that casts it on the wall.
It could be that you’re always here
and that you’re the sacred form
of a cosmic ignorance
that should torment me.
Though perhaps, better still,
you’ve sounded the depths of visionary wisdom.
All the same, I know you hate
such big words, maybe
because you’ve no knowledge of them
nor they of you.
Among countless other things you may be,
I can understand that you’re precisely this:
the ignorance of big words.
That for the present moment of your absence
or of your manner of hiding
this is enough for me. In the meantime, in dreams,
I croon your songs without meaning
and, awake, I try to place them
in the irregular lines of serious play,
this other edge, this margin.
The final translated version of the poem is by Jamie McKendrick
No sé cómo buscarte dentro de mí,
niño que fui: si debo escarbar
encarnizadamente
en la memoria
o invocarte por medio de magias repentinas
en las que no creo.
Estás perdido pero no para ti mismo:
sólo para mí. Sin embargo soy tú,
o eso me dicen quienes parecen
saber más de mí que yo mismo; o que tú.
En el tiempo de la vida
tuviste un tiempo propio,
largo, dilatado
hasta el confín de juegos infinitos.
Sé que jugabas como ahora yo juego:
pero eso no es encontrarte. Soy tu repetición
-siquiera en el esplendor mínimo
del juego -y sus inocencias y sus culpas.
William Wordsworth afirma
que eres mi padre:
él juega un juego estrafalario
con los años, con las edades
y con la genética. Por las entrañas
y por la biología,
mi padre fue otro
-y ya está muerto. Tú estás vivo.
Y es cierto que vives
como una sombra palpitante
dentro de mí. Pero no conozco ese «dentro».
Cuando examino el interior de lo que soy
hallo solamente un amasijo de formas
indistintas, apenas discernible
por un esfuerzo del recuerdo.
Pero estás ahí, impalpable, invisible.
Acércate. Pienso a veces
que no quieres hacerlo
para que yo no te mate. O te me escapas
minuciosamente
por una voluntad incomprensible
de ocultamiento. Pues sospecho
que no me tienes miedo
-como no le tiene miedo la sombra
al cuerpo que la proyecta sobre la pared.
Es posible que siempre estés aquí
y seas la forma sagrada
de una ignorancia cósmica
que debería atormentarme.
Pero quizá, mejor aun,
tienes la hondura de una sabiduría
visionaria.
Sin embargo, sé que aborreces
tales grandes palabras, acaso
porque las desconocías
o porque ellas te desconocían.
Entre mil otras cosas, puedo entender
que eres precisamente eso:
el desconocimiento de las grandes palabras.
Que por el tiempo presente de tu ausencia
o de tu estilo de esconderte
eso me baste. Mientras tanto, en sueños,
murmuro tus cantos sin significado
y en la vigilia intento ponerlos
en líneas irregulares de juego serio,
ese otro confín.
Sensual – Poem by Asad Jaleel
Posted by asad123 in Poems, relationships, Uncategorized on February 18, 2012
Sensual
I want to write a poem
For people who don’t like poetry
People like you
Grounded, diligent people
Brilliant, generous people
Start at the senses
Don’t read this with your eyes
Taste it with your mouth
Swish the syllables under your tongue
Feel each word like a soft kiss
I would just speak
In whispered s’s
And rolling l’s
Erase the hard letters
Your k’s and t’s and p’s
Lustfully lick your lips
Sip sentences like cider
Letters leave from my hands
Settle softly behind your teeth
Vibrate against the drums of your ears
This is a love letter
Not a pedantic lesson
Step out of the school
Don’t study this like a chapter
Feel it like a pounding rain
Song Analysis – “Somebody I Used to Know” Gotye
Posted by asad123 in Music, relationships, Uncategorized on February 7, 2012
Gotye is Belgian and his name is pronounced “gaw’ tee ay.”
Now and then when I think of when we were together
Like when you said you felt so happy you could die
Told myself that you were right for me
But felt so lonely in your company
But that was love and that’s an ache I still remember
[“But felt so lonely in your company” is a sweet turn of phrase. It suggests coldness and distance. Then he describes love as “an ache I can still remember.” Those of us who have been in love and lost it recognize this feeling.]
You can addicted to a certain kind of sadness
Like resignation to the end, always the end
So when we found that we could not make sense
Well you said that we would still be friends
But I’ll admit that I was glad it was over
(I relate to the line about being addicted to sadness. During periods of my life, I have been stuck in patterns of feeling bad about myself. It’s weird that you can be addicted to feeling so bad, but all addiction goes from feeling good to feeling bad.]
She didn’t have to cut me off
Make out like it never happened and that we were nothing
And I don’t even need your love
But you treat me like a stranger and that feels so rough
You didn’t have to stoop so low
Have your friends collect your records and then change your number
I guess that I don’t need that though
Now you’re just somebody that I used to know (3x)
[Will Smith’s character on “The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air” once said, “I was just a relative – you made me family.” The line here, “Now you’re just somebody that I used to know,” describes something that is going in the reverse direction. What is a person who was once your girlfriend? You can call her your ex. But she has no status in your life. She has no special rights or privileges as your ex. So she’s just somebody you used to know. There’s a poignancy in that because this woman went from maybe the most important woman in your life to a woman who is just one step above a stranger.]
Now and then I think of all the times you screwed me over
But had me believing it was always something I had done
And I don’t wanna live that way
Reading into every word you say
You said that you could let it go
And I wouldn’t catch you hung up on somebody that you used to know
But you didn’t have to cut me off
Make out like it never happened and that we were nothing
And I don’t even need your love
But you treat me like a stranger and that feels so rough
You didn’t have to stoop so low
Have your friends collect your records and then change your number
I guess that I don’t need that though
Song Analysis – “A Good Year for the Roses” – George Jones
Posted by asad123 in Music, relationships on February 3, 2012
I can hardly bear the sight of lipstick
On the cigarettes there in the ashtray
Lyin’ cold the way you left them
At least your lips caressed them while you packed.
And a lip-print on a half-filled cup of coffee
That you poured and didn’t drink
But at least you thought you wanted it
And that’s so much more than I can say for me.
Chorus:
But what a good year for the roses
Many blooms still linger there
The lawn could stand another mowin’
It’s funny, I don’t even care.
And when you turned and walked away
And as the door behind you closes
The only thing I know to say
It’s been a good year for the roses.
After three full years of marriage
It’s the first time that you haven’t made the bed
I guess the reason we’re not talkin’
There’s so little left to say, we haven’t said.
While a million thoughts go runnin’ through my mind
I find I haven’t spoke a word
And from the bedroom those familiar sounds
Of our one baby’s cryin’ goes unheard.
Chorus
[Frequent readers of this blog know I love story-songs. This is a fantastic example of a story song that uses subtle phrasing to communicate a great deal of meaning. It's a sad, touching narrative about a marriage falling apart.
It's almost as if time freezes and the speaker can see everything in crystal-clear detail. He sees lipstick on her used cigarettes and her mug of coffee. He muses that while the cigarettes are cold now, they felt the touch of his wife's lips, as if he envies these inanimate objects. Similarly, he talks about the half-filled (half empty?) cup of coffee that she didn't drink. Yet the coffee can boast that it was wanted and he feels like he hasn't been wanted in ages.
He describes the yard outside. It seems that he has turned to the yard as an escape. He feels powerless to fix his marriage but the garden is something that he can maintain. He notices that the grass is too long. The one thing in his world that seems to be doing well is the roses. Of course, roses are so often a metaphor for love and romance. The irony here is that he has these beautiful roses, but no one who will appreciate them.
It ends with a heart-breaking image- the couple's baby cries, yet no one hears the sound. The song could have ended with the man's tears, it could have ended with the wife's tears, yet by ending with the baby's tears, it makes the story so much sadder.]
Poem Analysis “Funeral Blues” W.H. Auden
Posted by asad123 in Films, Poems, relationships on January 22, 2012
(Poem #256) Funeral Blues
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
[If this poem sounds familiar to you, perhaps it is
because an actor reads it dramatically at a funeral
for the man he loves. W. H. Auden also
likely wrote it for a man he deeply loved.
I enjoy the following lines, "He was my North, my South,
my East and West,/ My working week and my Sunday rest."
These are the four cardinal directions.The beloved dominates
his sense of both space and time. This suggests he went
everywhere with him and spent every moment with him.
I hear echoes of a very ancient poem in this Auden piece.
The Roman poet Catullus wrote a love poem in Latin that
resembles this one.
(http://www.usu.edu/markdamen/Latin1000/Readings/1020B/25catullus2.pdf/ ) It almost seems
comical that he goes to such lengths to mourn a little bird,
but this was a pet that his beloved adored.
Not everyone can write a poem like this when someone dies.
Yet there is something about the feeling of the poem that
anyone who has lost a loved one will recognize.]
Song Analysis “Change the Sheets” Kathleen Edwards
Posted by asad123 in Music, relationships on January 12, 2012
Image: photostock / FreeDigitalPhotos.net
My love took a ride on a red-eye plane
Going home
And we’re never going to feel the same
Change this feeling under my feet
Change the sheets and then change me
["In the music business bigger is not necessarily better. In fact, I believe smaller is actually better" - Chuck Kaye, Dreamworks.
Kathleen Edwards works on a smaller scale than some of her contemporaries, but she delivers meaning and passion with her own brand of folk.
Look at how she begins this song, "My love took a ride on a red-eye plane." Introducing the man she loves simply as "my love" is elegant and mature. And so much is conveyed by the phrase "red-eye plane." We immediately know the hour of the day, the probable emotional state of the couple (Have you ever been happy about taking a red-eye flight?), even the class of the flier (He has enough money to fly but not enough to go in style.).
My love is a stockpile of broken wills
Like Santa Fe, margaritas and sleeping pills
I want to lie in the cracks of this lonely road
I can fill in the blanks every time you don't phone
[I love this line, "I can fill in the blanks every time you don't phone." Herein lies a tip for my friends who are in relationships - always call home. I know the feeling of being so embarrassed by the situation one is in to call home. Call home anyway. The scenario she's going to imagine in the wake of your silence is many, many times worse than the reality.]
Here is the truth, I swear it used to be fun
Go ahead run, run, run, run
Change this feeling under my feet
Change the sheets and then change me
Won’t you change this feeling under my feet?
[Changing sheets is so easy. You pull out a crisp set of linens and suddenly it's like you have a new bed. If only we could change our emotions so easily. ]
I want to lie in the cracks of this lonely road
I can fill in the blanks every time you don’t phone
Here is the truth, I swear it was fun
Go ahead run, run, run, run, run, run, run
[Wanting to lie in the cracks of the road means wanting to disappear, wanting to erase one's self from existence. Where is the source of this guilt? She says, "Here is the truth, I swear it was fun." I think she's admitting to cheating, and for no greater justification than it feeling good at the time. But she leaves with a parting shot. By saying "go ahead run," she's implying that her former love is a coward. He won't face up to the deep problems in the relationship. Instead he's flying home in the middle of the night.]
Change this feeling under my feet
Would you change the sheets and then change me
Change this feeling under my feet
‘Cause here is the truth, I swear it was fun
Go ahead run, run, run, run, run, run, ooh (2x)