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This is a hard song to share for several reasons. It's about as unprotected and raw as I could make myself in a song. It's also so vulnerable that it verges on the silly. It walks the line between "truly sad" and "pitiful." It's the balancing act that I find interesting. In my mind it teeters again and again, but there's something true in the song that keeps it from toppling.

The title is a case in point. Most people don't associate Bruce Springsteen with tears. The association is extremely personal and might not even translate out. What I meant to indicate was that there was something vulnerable in the way he presented himself that was okay somehow, powerful and yet safe and acceptable. It was superior to the way I had been presenting myself as vulnerable, which left me very exposed and was unattractive. I was saying that I learned "how" to cry by watching and listening to him, that I found a safe way to cry by emulating him, but that it didn't answer the deeper question of what I was crying about.

You might notice that the lyrics deviate from the refrain, changing Bruce Springsteen to "my Mama" and finally "your letter" in the last verse. That was my solution to the overly strange / silly vibe the title gave off. But in the recorded version it stays "Bruce Springsteen" throughout. Which one do you think works better?

As for the rest of the song, it was definitely a Johnny Cash vibe. Guitar-like piano, low register. I really like the wordplay in the lyrics. They may be too clever for their own good, though. But the painful honesty of them balances them.

Like I said, the song is a real balancing act. I don't think it's a successful song, and it's hard to share, but I do it for you!

Bruce Springsteen Told Me How To Cry

I'm shackled but I'm not bound
Sold but not delivered
Every face I see
Is offered but not given

I'm covered but I'm not secure
Touched but never felt
Every hand that's offered me
Lies and is already forgiven

And Bruce Springsteen told me how to cry
But he can't tell me why
No he can't tell me why

I'm taken but I'm not kept
I'm blessed but not dismissed
Everything I do
Is childish but not fun

I'm driven but I'm never there
I'm gone but I'm not missed
Everything I've done
Is accomplished and unbegun

And Mama taught me how to cry
But she can't tell me why
She can't tell me why

I'm lording while I live to serve
I'm straight laced when I throw a curve
I'm clever as I ever was
I cut me off to make me swerve
Into the bank I'll lose my purse
I'll whistle out my empty verse
I'm silent in the universe

I'm younger than my oldest child
Seen but not believed in
Everything I wanted
I got and I have nothing

I'm foolish when I think I'm wise
Sainted as a demon
Everything I've written
Is permanent as semen

And your letter taught me how to cry
But it can't tell me why
No, it can't tell me why