Drowning In A Well of Sadness Part Eight: Jim White

A bit of a cheat this because I'm not listening to this song Christmas Day by Jim White. I have a copy somewhere but can't lay my hands on it at the moment. I do remember that it's a passionate and desolately emotional song. I went looking for the lyrics and I just have to reprint the whole song. So many great lines such as "what good fiction I will mold from this terrible pain". It just screams of real experience and heartbreak.

Christmas Day

Where in the world did you come from my dear?
Did some mysterious voice tell you I'd still be here?
I bought this ticket to Mobile, but I been stranded all day...
p.a. said the bus broke down ten miles away from the station.
So seldom a door...so seldom a key...
so seldom a lock like the love between you and me.
But seldom comes happiness without the pain of the devil in the details
since I saw the smile on your face as I was crying in a Greyhound station on Christmas Day...in 1998.

The burden of love is the fuel of bad grammar.
You stutter and stammer--what a bitch to convey the crux of the matter,
when the words you must utter are hopelessly tangled
in the memories and scars you show no one.
So seldom a door...so seldom a key...
so seldom a hit like the hurt you put on me.
But seldom comes happiness without the pain of the devil in the details
since I saw the smile on your face as I was crying in a Greyhound station on Christmas Day...in 1998.

I remember quite clearly, a bad Muzak version of James Taylor's big hit,
called "Fire and Rain" was playing as you crouched down and tearfully kissed me,
and I thought, "Damn, what good fiction I will mold from this terrible pain."
So seldom a door...so seldom a key...so seldom a gift like the gift you gave me.
But seldom comes happiness without the pain of the devil in the details
since I saw the smile on your face as I was crying in a Greyhound station on Christmas Day...in 1998.
Amazing grace, how sweet the smile upon the face I never thought I'd see you again...
especially here in this Greyhound station...on Christmas Day...in 1998.