The Story
This song, "Almost See Jamaica" is one that partially came to me while I was sleeping. Well, actually as I was waking up from sleeping. The melody for the chorus woke me up, and at least 2 of the four lines of the chorus were pretty much part of the melody. I finished the other two lines within an hour or two. There's a clever little literary device used here (maybe a little TOO clever, lol). If you examine the actual lyrics of the chorus, you see that all FIVE senses are illustrated there. That took a little doing...rewrites until it flowed and made sense too. But the ultimate effect (I hope) is that the song via lyrics and melody resonates with the listener in a way that hey can't even explain. With the chorus completed, I knew that the verses had to deliver a message that was authentic, so I traipsed over to my favorite local watering hole (The Neches River Wheelhouse) and sat there drinking rum drinks while looking at the river on a Sunday afternoon. It wasn't as crowded as a Friday or Saturday night, so I was able to really "feel" what our protagonist would be feeling. The scenery there actually ( I use actually a lot, don't I?) does make you feel like you could be in the Caribbean, and the rum completes the task. This is meant to be a happy song by the way!
Lyrics
CHORUS: I can almost taste the islands From this barstool I can almost feel that warm Montego breeze I can almost smell the ocean And hear the steel drums near I can almost see Jamaica From right here --------------------------------------------------- Its so easy to lose yourself When you’re living it day to day Chasing that American dream Just to watch it slip away I’ve seen a lot of people try To make up for lost time Till one day they just come undone And leave it all behind ---------------------------------------------------- CHORUS ---------------------------------------------------- There’s a place I like to go When I need to get away A short journey from my home But it takes me to a place Where I can let my worries go And my tensions turn to sand Palapa bar on a riverbank With a rum drink in my hand