This is a song I co-wrote with a friend of mine, Tom Davis. I used South American imagery and something of Cat People. Some of my friends tell me that it sounds very 80s and I don't know if that is true to my ears. I see it as a ballad on some mystical event and that can be at any time.
This is very nice for a Sunday morning. It's a very plain-spoken and humble piece. Makes me wonder that we are all ghosts of sorts. We are here so briefly and then disappear like a ghost. But I believe in a higher power -- not as a wish-fulfillment -- but I have my own experience that provides evidence of sorts. I have dreams where the architecture is so detailed and complex that it staggers the imagination. I know it is not my creation because I know my powers, and it is beyond anything I could do. And it is an evil power or spirit that sometimes inhabits my dreams, and I am terrified. But I know that if it is evil then there must also be good. And that bolsters my faith. I also have had unexpected intimations of goodness from the beyond and that too bolsters my faith and gives me hope. I could put it down to what Scrooge said to the ghost Marley: “You may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato. There's more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!” But I don't. And, lastly, science is providing evidence for a Creator hypothesis. But I won't go into that and will end by saying the world is a very mysterious place.
Thank you. My friend Tom Davis, who collaborated and sang it, went to Central America. There, unfortunately, he picked up Dengue Fever and that I suspect lead to other complications, and he is now dead. So you are right, there is something haunting about it. People die. And just when you think that some walking orb, some golden bubble of sunshine will never die. They die. Bowie, during the Let's Dance period, was like that. He seemed touched by the Gods, immortal. And yet at the heart of it, he was abusing himself with drugs & booze, the core was rotten to some extent. And the rot expands until something gives out. Some people would say, "It was all for art." But was it really? I guess humans need Gods to believe in, but people are not Gods. They are human, all too human.