85 Comments General Comment: It is humbling to realize that I am moved by the same monster riffs and slick arena-rock sound that everyone else is moved by. So be it. I too love Boston and I think I always will. More than a Feeling. In this song I smell that girl's amazing mane of dark hair impregnated with cigarette smoke once again. I see her semitic cat eyes and the arch of her brows, I remember the plastic high-heels she wore and drinking apricot brandy while we were making out on a golf course under the stars at the 10th-grade spring dance. I remember how perfect she looked in her tight designer jeans - her laugh, her walk, her voice, sitting next to me in class passing notes and realizing I didn't deserve that she should even gaze at me... She left my school after one year to attend another one and after our spring romance, all she offered in parting was a bottle of vodka she was hiding from her parents and a nonchalant "well [she spoke my name here] I guess this is it - bye bye" and then she walked away into oblivion. I never saw her again. I still think about her almost every day. It is strange what the feminine other can do to an impressionable mind. I am stoned still on memories of a girl who will always be perfectly fifteen in the spring of 1979. It's strange how nomadic hunters and gathers