Yeah Yeah Yeah

...could make things magical - to believe in magic like a young girl should. And the sentiments sleep still in pop songs, waking when we feel somethin' true to remind us it's been done. So who needs records? Music or documentation reservation due to trepidation and we wish this could just be ours, right now, always and without context, to have and to hold for all time as a reminder that love is true (and it could happen to you.) And once back from the starry lakeside a song distantly buzzes in kind with the cicadas from a rusted pickup: Elvis singin' "Fools Rush In". And the next summer Grams had died and we found her apartment full of hundreds of smiling faces, hanging on the walls, and also angelic light, pouring in from above the stove, all golden, illuminating the place where she stopped breathin' and they took her gold, and they took the silver, but the stories she left for me.

-Chicago