Trouble Never Come Late

POP your heart out.

Published Monday, March 26, 2007 by Laura | E-mail this post

Loney, Dear-Saturday Waits

Swedish pop. Anticipation. Waiting. Longing. A sea breeze, a memory. Brushing and hinting. These sensations, tiny pleasures, light and quick pressures of action. You won't ever be tell, outright, but there's a suggestion, a whispered action for consideration, rising and rising and pushing, until it becomes a part of your mind. And suddenly, it's obvious, like the catchy rising waves of the song, the layers upon layers of eager anticipation and excitement, covering the nervousness and fear until it becomes a whirl of hopes and dreams and smiles and Saturday night waiting. Waiting to get over it then, finally.

Labels: anticipation, swee, whisper, wind