A long time ago, I think in my high school library, I read a negative Rolling Stone review of this song castigating it as "naval gazing" and other indicators of boredom, which left me with a feeling that a song about regular small town childhood was beneath the interest of music critics of quality. John Mellencamp is a life-long Democrat and farm supporter, and he has been a troubadour of small town life for decades. Considering where we're at, maybe we could've listened a bit more to the John Mellencamps out there along the way, giving poetic dignity to the lives and real struggles (and joys) of these people, so maybe they wouldn't be out there pumping fists resentfully at Kid Rock shows now.

How many songs sound like "Cherry Bomb"? I can't think of any. The country and folk sounds set to Kenny Aronoff's big drums. The sweet, layered backing vocals. The airy strains of accordion wafting amongst a palpable sense of memory. Memory, remember, is a trance state we enter, the feeling of which this song explores. The cherry bomb is more than a metaphor for past innocent fun; it is the motivator and the medium of memory. It is the flash point (here, literally) that brands the mind forever.

The lyrics are framed with a bratty aggressiveness to make you hear them. A while back, I claimed that the quality of lyrics is in how easily they can be remembered just from hearing the song. I know all these lyrics. They are built well, something so strangely rare. This moment, I can hear them.

"If we done any harm, I hope that we're forgiven."