Today, Lucinda Williams, for that distinctive raw, Nashville, bluesy voice of hers that always makes me want to wake up in a different life in a whiskey bottle in a bar someplace remote (as if that could possibly be a good thing):
World Without Tears
If we lived in a world withought tears
How would bruises find
The face to lie upon
How would scars find skin
To etch themselves into
How would broken find the bones
If we lived in a world without tears
How would heartbeats
Know when to stop
How would blood know
Which body to flow outside of
How would bullets find the guns
If we lived in a world without tears
How would misery know
Which back door to walk through
How would trouble know
Which mind to live inside of
How would sorrow find a home
If we lived in a world without tears
How would bruises find
The face to lie upon
How would scars find skin
To etch themselves into
How would broken find the bones
If we lived in a world without tears
How would bruises find
The face to lie upon
How would scars find skin
To etch themselves into
How would broken find the bones
How would broken find the bones
How would broken find the bones
Goddamn, if you only do one thing I tell you to in your life, listen to Lucinda Williams.