And the sky is black and still now, on the hill where the angels sing

Maybe the most universally truthful song ever written, one that burrows down deep into the psyche.

Love the vinyl pops in the beginning; yes this is old and not anyway fashionable, except for the emotions, which are timeless. When I hear this song, and these words, it takes me to many places -- most of them not pleasant, but some bittersweet.

The further away you run doesn't matter, the faster you run doesn't matter; this is inescapable. A line like "ain't it funny how an old broken bottle looks just like a diamond ring" follows you from your first kiss and romance to the moment when you realize that none of it matters.

For many years I had the same recurring dream: I would hit the ball and just couldn't get to first base no matter what. I kept churning and churning, and never went anywhere. That dream stopped and has been replaced by one where I am trying to get somewhere on a bike and I have a flat tire. It's always flat; the bike seems raring to go and I'm riding on the rims.

"Far from Me" is the soundtrack to that baseball game and that aborted bicycle trip.