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Though we share this humble path, alone
How fragile is the heart
Oh give these clay feet wings to fly
To touch the face of the stars

Breathe life into this feeble heart
Lift this mortal veil of fear
Take these crumbled hopes, etched with tears
We'll rise above these earthly cares

Cast your eyes on the ocean
Cast your soul to the sea
When the dark night seems endless
Please remember me


Thursday, March 29, 2012

That hollow, empty sound that rests in the valley

The vast majority of people swim with the flow through the river of life. Some perturb the waters and create ripples, some widen the bank, some even swim against the flow. And then there are those few who cut whole new channels. Earl Scruggs was one of those last people. Most modern US banjo players play Scruggs Style. The world is a little less rich because one of the giants has fallen. At least we have his music. If all you know is Foggy Mountain Breakdown or the Ballad of Jed Clampett, that's a pity.



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