I Scare

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Sigmund Freud - or so at least popular understanding of his theories go - blaims all human (or: male) achievements on a suppressed eros. (“I can’t find noone to make out with me, okay then, I’ll create some incredible, eternally valid work of art.”) Maybe another way of putting it would be: A lot of stuff is done because people are afraid of dying. Some do jogging and health food, others produce novels or babies - or anything else that keeps their name alive after thay have gone to the valley bellow.

Which brings to my mind: You find the song “One More Cup Of Coffee” on the “Bob Dylan at Budokan” live album (and elsewhere). Here’s the lyrics:

One More Cup Of Coffee

Your breath is sweet
Your eyes are like two jewels in the sky
Your back is straight your hair is smooth
On the pillow where you lie
But I don’t sense affection
No gratitude or love
Your loyalty is not to me
But to the stars above

One more cup of coffee for the road
One more cup of coffee ‘fore I go.
To the valley below.

Your daddy he’s an outlaw
And a wanderer by trade
He’ll teach you how to pick and choose
And how to throw the blade
He oversees his kingdom
So no stranger does intrude
His voice it trembles as he calls out
For another plate of food.

One more cup of coffee for the road
One more cup of coffee ‘fore I go.
To the valley below.

Your sister sees the future
Like your mama and yourself
You’ve never learned to read or write
There’s no books upon your shelf
And your pleasure knows no limits
Your voice is like a meadowlark
But your heart is like an ocean
Mysterious and dark.

One more cup of coffee for the road
One more cup of coffee ‘fore I go.
To the valley below.

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