A Song of Despair
By Pablo Neruda The memory of you emerges from the night around me. The river mingles its stubborn lament with the sea. Deserted like the wharves at dawn. It is the hour of departure, oh deserted one! Cold flower heads are raining over my heart. Oh pit of debris, fierce cave of the shipwrecked. In you the wars and the flights accumulated. From you the wings of the song birds rose. You swallowed...
Jack White talks about the making of “Blunderbuss”
I am (back)
I am not satisfied.
You cannot satisfy me. I will not ever be satisfied.