I don't know what inspired Robert to write this song, or how he happened to write it, but the way that I imagine the song coming to be is what makes it one of my favorites. I'm not sure I actually really want to know.
I imagine Robert perched alone on the edge of a very high cliff above the sea tides (naturally), staring without intent out into the horizon. The expanse above him is mostly grey, except for a few breaks in the sullen shroud of the sky where wisps of sunlight form symbolic tangents between the sea and sky, causing a few random pieces of water to do a shimmering, defiant dance against the gloom.
The chilling breeze of a lingering English winter whips his tousled, inky, tumbleweed locks against his pallid face and he shudders. Still, those little glimpses of sunlight hold memories of warmth, and even though the wind is wicked and cold, there's a hint of spring carried in from behind the horizon with every gust, and he knows that eventually it will come.
That's all probably just complete nonsense, and it really has very little to do with the lyrics, but I enjoy it all the same.
@sorrywrongnumbah
Although you might be right and it's all probably complete nonsense, I can see and enjoy the words of the heart of the poet that lives inside you interpreting these mystical words by the Great Robert Smith. Horay for the Cure!
@sorrywrongnumbah
Although you might be right and it's all probably complete nonsense, I can see and enjoy the words of the heart of the poet that lives inside you interpreting these mystical words by the Great Robert Smith. Horay for the Cure!
I don't know what inspired Robert to write this song, or how he happened to write it, but the way that I imagine the song coming to be is what makes it one of my favorites. I'm not sure I actually really want to know. I imagine Robert perched alone on the edge of a very high cliff above the sea tides (naturally), staring without intent out into the horizon. The expanse above him is mostly grey, except for a few breaks in the sullen shroud of the sky where wisps of sunlight form symbolic tangents between the sea and sky, causing a few random pieces of water to do a shimmering, defiant dance against the gloom. The chilling breeze of a lingering English winter whips his tousled, inky, tumbleweed locks against his pallid face and he shudders. Still, those little glimpses of sunlight hold memories of warmth, and even though the wind is wicked and cold, there's a hint of spring carried in from behind the horizon with every gust, and he knows that eventually it will come. That's all probably just complete nonsense, and it really has very little to do with the lyrics, but I enjoy it all the same.
@sorrywrongnumbah Although you might be right and it's all probably complete nonsense, I can see and enjoy the words of the heart of the poet that lives inside you interpreting these mystical words by the Great Robert Smith. Horay for the Cure!
@sorrywrongnumbah Although you might be right and it's all probably complete nonsense, I can see and enjoy the words of the heart of the poet that lives inside you interpreting these mystical words by the Great Robert Smith. Horay for the Cure!