I'm good, what about you?

Ok, I've been off zoloft for a little over a week now, and everything is going very well ... except for one little emotional episode which is really kind of embarrassing to write about, but what the hell.

On Friday the same L. Cohen album was in the car CD player from my drive home on Thursday, and the song The Old Revolution came on.
And yeah, it's one of my favorite songs from the album, so I always listen a little more intently when it comes on.
And I'm fine, and I'm singing along with L. Cohen in my best nasal L. Cohen voice.
And L. Cohen and I are singing:

I finally broke into the prison,
I found my place in the chain.
Even damnation is poisoned with rainbows,
all the brave young men
they're waiting now to see a signal
which some killer will be lighting for pay.

Into this furnace I ask you now to venture,
you whom I cannot betray.

I fought in the old revolution
on the side of the ghost and the King ...

And L. Cohen and I are both into it.
And then we get to the next line:

Of course I was very young
and I thought that we were winning;
I can't pretend, I still feel very much like singing
as they carry the bodies away.

And I ...
I can't sing because I'm starting to tear up.
I mean, yeah tearing up to the point where I think I'm going to have to pull over to the side of the road, because I'm about to start bawling my eyes out.
I didn't understand it.
I mean, yeah, but ...
I don't know.
Just that song, just those lyrics, just touching some chord.
Lost youth.
Lost innocence.
Lost marbles.
It's odd, isn't it?


Into this furnace I ask you now to venture,
you whom I cannot betray.

Lately you've started to stutter
as though you had nothing to say.
To all of my architects let me be traitor.
Now let me say I myself gave the order
to sleep and to search and to destroy.

Into this furnace I ask you now to venture,
you whom I cannot betray.

Yes, you who are broken by power,
you who are absent all day,
you who are kings for the sake of your children's story,
the hand of your beggar is burdened down with money,
the hand of your lover is clay.

Into this furnace I ask you now to venture,
you whom I cannot betray.