Warning. Listen at own risk no. 2

“Hi, again.” That’s me talking to my husband, who is sitting at his desk.

“You’ve got that look on your face again,” he says.

“Well, a month ago you recommended a truly devastating song by Tim Buckley. People loved it. They want another one.”

“You mean a song that requires great emotional stamina to even listen to? A song that calls into question our sense of what is divine? Another song from which there is no returning? That kind of thing?” he asked.

“Exactly.”

T.B. Sheets by Van Morrison. It’s the most agonised ten minutes you can spend this side of the grave.”

“Sounds terrifying.”

“Yeah, it ain’t funny. It ain’t funny at all. They say that after Van Morrison sang it, he had to send everyone home from the studio because he couldn’t stop crying. That’s the story anyway. It’s about a guy in a hospital room singing to his dying girlfriend. It’s bleak and complex but unbelievably powerful. There is no song like it, as far as I know.”

“Thanks.”

“Plus, it grooves. You’d like it.”

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Warning. Listen at Own Risk.
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T.B. Sheets

Now listen, Julie baby,
It ain't natural for you to cry in the midnight
It ain't natural for you to cry way into midnight through,
Until the wee small hours long
Before the break of dawn,
Oh Lord

Now Julie, an' there ain't nothin' on my mind
More further 'way than what you're lookin' for
I seen it when you jumped at me, Lord, from behind the door
And looked into my eyes
Your little star struck innuendos
Inadequacies an' foreign bodies,
And the sunlight shining through the crack in the window pane
Numbs my brain,
And the sunlight shining through the crack in the window pane
Numbs my brain, oh Lord

Ha, so open up the window and let me breathe
I said open up the window, shh shh shh shh shh and let me breathe
I'm looking down to the street below, Lord, I cried for you,
Ha ha, I cried, I cried for you, ha ha, oh, Lord

The cool room, Lord is a fool's room
The cool room, Lord is a fool's room
And I can almost smell your T.B. sheets
And I can almost smell your T.B. sheets
On your sick bed

I gotta go, I gotta go
And you said, "Please stay, I want to, I want to,
I want a drink of water, I want a drink of water,
Go in the kitchen get me a drink of water"
I said, "I gotta go, I gotta go, baby"
I said, "I'll send, I'll send somebody around here later
You know we got John comin' around here later
With a bottle of wine for you, baby, but I gotta go"

The cool room, Lord is a fool's room,
The cool room, Lord, Lord is a fool's room, a fool's room
And I can almost smell your T.B. sheets,
I can almost smell your T.B. sheets, T.B.

I gotta go, I gotta go
I'll send around, send around one that grumbles later on, babe
I'll see what I can pick up for you, you know
Yeah, I got a few things going, too
Don't worry about it, don't worry about it, don't worry
Uh huh, go, go, go, I've gotta go, gotta go, gotta go, gotta go,
I gotta, all right, all right, huh huh huh

I turned on the radio,
And want to hear a few tunes, turn on the radio for you
There you go, there you go, there you go, baby, there you go, mm

You'll be all right, too, huh huh, ha ha, yeah
I know it ain't funny, it ain't funny at all, baby,
Laying in the cool room, man, laying in the cool room,
In the cool room, in the cool room