In the span of 8 days we lost two of my songwriting heroes: Bill Withers and John Prine.
In times of a quarantine and an ever changing world, it really put the magnitude of 'one week in April' into perspective.
I’m feeling claustrophobic as I’m sure you are too.
Been stuck in this apartment trying to invent things to do.
So I sleep through the morning and wake up half past noon.
I’ve lived through many a thing but nothing quite like this flu.
I know we’re all in this together; separately apart.
But life is still wondrous when you open up your heart.
And pancakes for dinner. And making love for lunch.
Things could be a whole lot worse like a day without your touch.
Ain’t no sunshine since you’ve gone to Paradise with John.
A bizarre week it’s been, I hope we never meet again.
Baby I’m glad you recovered. I’m not angry or making blame.
I know we’ll love one another in another time and another place
For the mailman always delivers like the sun shines above.
I know we’ll love again for in this process I trust.
So don’t be hard on yourself. I know you’re not to blame.
We’ll meet again soon, on that higher plane.