Corporate America Wakes, Coffee Republic And Cakes
Thought you could get away, with the summersweet brushing your calves and a million stars dancing above the dogwoods, red white and blue exploding just beyond the moss-laden cypress.
Whiskey lingering on your lips, thinking that after burning those desolate 600 miles, all your ghosts were finally lost behind you. The last one had been deposited on your doorstep in a drunken stupor, inflicting proclamations of familial obligations on your conscience and vowing that it was all done with the best of intentions. All those empty apologies and notions of motherly love, drowning in the muggy predawn air of a lone star state of mind.
The money that came too easy, too many shadows whispering voices, and a cold night walking with death at your side; so many questions were creeping in.
If, when, why, what?
How much have you got?
But you weren't ready with the answers just then.
Years later, when midnight passed you by and left you alone with another three shots on the table and lists of demands and expectations thrown in your face, accompanied by accusations of wrong intentions screaming your name, you still couldn't face all those questions which were fighting to get your attention.
Turns out that all those ghosts and haunts and jealous persuasions were not buried nearly as well as you thought. Small towns are like that, and they always manage to track you down when you try to leave them behind.
The water rolled down the drain, in such a lonely place; it never seemed so strange.
They found you lost in the aftermath, the scent of sassafras lingering on your clothes, your eyes clouded with childhood memories that were slowly retreating, singing as they abandoned you once again...
Well, today I'm so weary,
today I'm so blue.
Sad and broken hearted,
and it's all because of you.
Life was so sweet dear,
life was a song.
Now you've gone and left me,
oh where do I belong?
I watched from a distance as you lingered on the veranda, damaged and unsure of your place in the world. I invited you in, expecting you to linger in the foyer long enough to catch your breath from the long walk through your recollections, and then to take your leave, without glancing back and without saying goodbye.
Six months gone and I still see you in every room, and I hear you when it's hours past midnight, and I can still smell the summersweet and sassafras on your clothes even though you allege that it was never there to begin with.
Maybe this is how it will be for a time, and we will mix drinks and mix words, keeping fingers crossed while braving the cold, and I will shout until they know what I mean...
Maybe we're victims of fate
Remember when we'd celebrate
We'd drink and get high until late
And now we're all alone
~
Whiskey lingering on your lips, thinking that after burning those desolate 600 miles, all your ghosts were finally lost behind you. The last one had been deposited on your doorstep in a drunken stupor, inflicting proclamations of familial obligations on your conscience and vowing that it was all done with the best of intentions. All those empty apologies and notions of motherly love, drowning in the muggy predawn air of a lone star state of mind.
The money that came too easy, too many shadows whispering voices, and a cold night walking with death at your side; so many questions were creeping in.
If, when, why, what?
How much have you got?
But you weren't ready with the answers just then.
Years later, when midnight passed you by and left you alone with another three shots on the table and lists of demands and expectations thrown in your face, accompanied by accusations of wrong intentions screaming your name, you still couldn't face all those questions which were fighting to get your attention.
Turns out that all those ghosts and haunts and jealous persuasions were not buried nearly as well as you thought. Small towns are like that, and they always manage to track you down when you try to leave them behind.
The water rolled down the drain, in such a lonely place; it never seemed so strange.
They found you lost in the aftermath, the scent of sassafras lingering on your clothes, your eyes clouded with childhood memories that were slowly retreating, singing as they abandoned you once again...
Well, today I'm so weary,
today I'm so blue.
Sad and broken hearted,
and it's all because of you.
Life was so sweet dear,
life was a song.
Now you've gone and left me,
oh where do I belong?
I watched from a distance as you lingered on the veranda, damaged and unsure of your place in the world. I invited you in, expecting you to linger in the foyer long enough to catch your breath from the long walk through your recollections, and then to take your leave, without glancing back and without saying goodbye.
Six months gone and I still see you in every room, and I hear you when it's hours past midnight, and I can still smell the summersweet and sassafras on your clothes even though you allege that it was never there to begin with.
Maybe this is how it will be for a time, and we will mix drinks and mix words, keeping fingers crossed while braving the cold, and I will shout until they know what I mean...
Maybe we're victims of fate
Remember when we'd celebrate
We'd drink and get high until late
And now we're all alone
~