I am obsessed with the song Samson by Regina Spektor. Ask my roommate, she knows.
What I love the most about the song is not the beautiful, velvety vocals but the lyrics (to be specific, the meaning behind them).
It tells the story of Samson through the eyes of Delilah, his deceitful wife. Samson was blessed by God with incredible strength (he could even kill a lion with his bare hands). With that strength, Samson fought off wicked people and God was pleased. Samson was good. He was obedient and he loved God. So, God promised Samson his strength as long as he never cut a hair off his head.
Delilah had given into sin by accepting the bribes of the Philistines. Blinded by money, she sought to find Samson’s ultimate weakness and to bring about his downfall. Every night, he incessantly asked her husband where his shortcomings lied. But every night, Samson gave her the wrong answer. After being given the answer, Delilah called the Philistines to her house to attack her husband, just to have Samson fight them off.
Finally, one night, Delilah got to him. She had told him that if he truly loved him, he would confide in her.
and he did.
Samson lost his hair that night and Delilah sold her husband to the Philistines. Tied to a pillar in their palace, Samson watched as the Philistines celebrated with a feast. Samson, deceived, guilt welling up in his chest cavity, prayed to God for one last chance. He asked for forgiveness and he asked for his strength. And for the last time, Samson got up and used his power to break the pillar that he was tied against, killing all inside the building, including himself.
This story is particularly moving to me because it shows how easily mankind can fall into sin’s trap. Everyday, the story of Samson lives on in every one of us. We are the deceived but more often, we are the deceivers.
Once you branch off from the straight path, like a tree that has grown crooked, you can never go back and straighten in out again. The past will always remain in the past. But life’s goal is to turn back once a mistake has been made. You must live and learn. Let the present be something you will never regret.
The blinds are closed, but light still shines through. One bed in the room is neatly made, but the other is messy. There are papers spread atop it and a guitar case, open but empty, is sitting on the floor beside the bed. There is a desk that spreads across the small room, a bookshelf on either side. The right side of the desk is neat, the chair nicely pushed in and every single book in it’s proper place. The left side, however, has pens lacking ink, pencils with snapped tips, and crumpled up papers that failed to reach the recycling box.
Her back is red and her neck is long. She is a gorgeous woman. She sings loudly; beautiful sounds spewing out from her mouth. Six strings race up her neck, vibrating and pulsing; they are her vocal chords. A small hand gently kneads her neck while another softly pulls on her strings; they are her reason to sing. She is nameless, but people call to her. She is faceless, but easily recognized. Intricate tattoos of vines twirl around her face with a silky white dove in the midst of it all. She is an it, and it is a guitar.
Some people love sports. Others love the sciences. But I love music.
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