It's not Plagiarism if you're Awesome

So I'm stuck in the library on an admittedly gloomy Friday afternoon. Nonetheless, despite the fact that Boston is up to the latter half of the alphabet in Tropical Storms, I want to go home and stop doing work. The cabin fever has been exacerbated by the fact that I've been sick the past few days and have done nothing but sit on my ass, eat candy under the guise of "cough drops," and watch TV. I want to go out, Jackass-style. My prospects don't look good, however, since I am only on page 4 of my six-page memo. And editing always takes longer than word-diarrhea, or as others like to call it, "writing".

So anyway, the title of this post is not about the fact that I'm cheating, which thankfully for a superiority complex, I would never deign to use another's words as my own. It's more about my obsession with covers. I am cheating a bit, because I know this is a blog of country music, and although this song was originally sang by Bob Dylan, Dierks Bentley ain't too shabby either.

Señor

-Dierks Bentley (originally Bob Dylan)

Senor, senor, can you tell me where we're headin ?
Lincoln County Road or Armageddon ?
Seems like I been down this way before
Is there any truth in that, senor ?

Senor, senor, do you know where she is hidin' ?
How long are we gonna be riding ?
How long must I keep my eyes glued to the door ?
Will there be any comfort there senor ?

There's a wicked wind still blowing on that upper deck
There's an iron cross still hanging down from around her neck
There's a marcing band still playing in that vacant lot
Where's she held me in her arms one time and said, Forget me not.

My overall favorite is Tim McGraw's cover of Elton John's "Tiny Dancer". I think it's better than the original. But I don't really like Elton John. Or The Beatles. Let the flaming commence.

Point Mutation in 1824 of the LMNA gene

I was originally planning on writing more about old age, after listening to George Strait's Troubadour, but today doesn't feel like a pontificating day. It's Sunday, it's the Christian Lord's Day, and for kids my age, it's a day to get over our hangovers.

Prodigal Son
-Dierks Bentley

Father meet me with your arms wide open
The world's done broken your prodigal son
Down that road I traveled
Everything raveled only came undone

Father lead me down to the river
Wash me in the water 'til I'm whiter than snow
I know I'm not worthy
But tell me there's mercy for the wanderin' soul

I lost my way but now I'm on my knees
If it's not too late won't you tell me please
You got a place for me
A little grace for me

Father meet me in the cool green valley
In all of your glory when my days are done
Name me as one of your chosen
Heaven's unbroken prodigal son

Father meet me with your arms wide open
Lead me down to the river
Meet me in the cool green valley

Name me one of your chosen
Heaven's unbroken prodigal son

I guess this is after all, very much a post about old age. It's about a child feeling way too damn old.