Thursday, August 2, 2012

And I'm crazy for lovin' you...

If I were the subject of a one of your songs, I'd be the poor man that brought you roses, not the rich fuck that tried to buy you.

But really, I'd like to help you write a new song. And yeah, I know you're dead, but if the arts have taught me anything, it's never too late to be appreciated.

See, Patsy, I don't think you ever got a fair shake if those lyrics really do tell your story. And the way you sing! That shit is sorrow on a stick served up by sick snakes that played you for a welcome mat that read "love me" and each and every guy wiped his muddy feet on you.

When you first told me that you were Back in Baby's Arms, alarm bells sounded off and I tried to warn you, but I was five years old... and you were already dead. But, Patsy, two decades later, I still shout "NO!"
He's been foolin' 'round on you right from the start.
So give him back his class ring and take back your heart.
Because when he's done fooling 'round with two or three,
He'll come back with some ol' nasty STD.

I'm crazy, Patsy, because everytime you've told me you're lonely and blue, I worry. I'm crazy for thinking my love could fix all this, and I know I'm crazy for loving a dead woman I never met. But some people believe that the memory of someone is enough to keep them alive and I've held a memory of each lyric in here, or... have they held me?

Sometimes, I go Walking After Midnight. And I wish you were walking, too. But, Patsy, I'm crazy, not delusional. I mean it metaphorically. See, I'm searching for a woman like you, and I know in my heart of hearts, she'll do her best but I'll still wish she could be you.

You've set the bar too high, Patsy. And I've been too eager to help you write a cheerful song. And maybe I'm So Wrong, but I don't think I'll be satisfied with anyone that loves less than you did. I want someone who will fall to pieces so that I can help her reassemble the resulting puzzle. I want to take her South of the Border, be the source of all her Sweet Dreams, and be the cause of and solution to all her Heartaches. Patsy, I want a San Antonio Rose, and if I ever leave her for Seven Lonely Days, I'll whisper my heart's beat into the Wayward Wind and hope that she hears it.

Patsy, you taught me to love, and all I've wanted to do is teach you to smile.
I've got these words, please accept them like they're roses. They're better than any rich man's gold.