Goodnight, sweetheart, well it's time to go.
Goodnight, sweetheart, well it's time to go,
Goodnight, sweetheart, well it's time to go,
I hate to leave you, but I really must say,
Goodnight, sweetheart, goodnight.
Before he gives her up, Murphy dances her around the empty parking lot the caravan is parked in. Their last show was a bust, he is too drunk to even stand up straight on stage and he slurs into the microphone to the few people in the audience that actually shows up. For his final act, he get sick and throws up off stage before passing out. Julien has to carry him off while Dagny refunds the money to angry audience members who hisses and spit at her in their drunk stupor.
He sobers up a few hours later, his blue eyes blurry still but he's coherent enough to stand on his own two feet and to make his way into a poker game with a few of the locals with money he doesn't really have. She watches him play from behind the stage curtain in the bar he's sitting in. She always watches but never makes a move to join in or to make a noise, at this point Dagny doesn't do much talking. Dangy likes to watch him though, and loves to listen to his stories, Murphy tells the best stories on the planet - he tells the same ones over and over but she never tires of hearing them. In fact she's fallen asleep listening to them more times then she can count, his voice is deep and soothing and lulls her to sleep.
He's so handsome too, and deep down she has an amazing crush on him and each time he kisses her cheek good night she hopes that he'll kiss her lips and pull her into his arms, but he never does. That doesn't stop her from trying once or twice, but each time she's turned down with a gentle smile and a pat on the head, he thinks she's a very stupid child but enjoys having his ego stroked by having some little thing fawning over him all the time.
Tonight she falls asleep listening to him and the plastic poker chips clattering on the table, all wrapped up in the velvet stage curtain her stomach growling but she's so exhausted it's easily ignored. Around four in the morning, she feels a hand on her shoulder, and looks up to see Murphy above her, smiling - it's an odd sort of smile but she doesn't seem to notice. She simply gets up and follows him out to the parking lot and the caravan. The lights are on inside, and there's music playing, some oldies station - the only station that continues to play that late at night.
He pulls her into his arms and starts to sway with her to the song that comes on, she snuggles up to his chest as her head tucks under his chin. Softly he hums to the song on the radio, The Spaniels, because Murphy knows every song under the sun. His over sized hand moving over her back, rubbing her through the fabric of her sun dress. Even as they move together she starts feeling sleepy once more until she is pretty much asleep on her feet.
When she wakes up, she on the back of the stage, curled up next to her suit case. It takes her a few long minutes to realize what actually happened, and even then she doesn't believe it. She runs through out the bar searching for Murphy or Julien, and then out to the parking lot in search for the caravan. They left her, she has no one to take care of her, and she had no one to take care of, she is now all alone. Sitting on the back steps she sniffles and finally starts to cry wiping at her blood shot eyes with the back of her hands as she whimpers and howls like a lost puppy.
Sometimes, she sits on her front steps and waits for him to come back - in some freak miracle or some amazing chance that he'll drive by and see her. It's some weird hope that she holds on to after all these years, but the older she gets the less she has and now it's just a ritual and a reminded that everyone leaves, and that everyone walks out. That people who do walk out are cowards and she's not going to be a coward any longer.
Well, it's three o'clock in the morning,
Baby, I just can't treat you right,
Well, I hate to leave you, baby,
Don't mean maybe, because I love you so.
Goodnight, sweetheart, well it's time to go,
I hate to leave you, but I really must say,
Goodnight, sweetheart, goodnight.
Before he gives her up, Murphy dances her around the empty parking lot the caravan is parked in. Their last show was a bust, he is too drunk to even stand up straight on stage and he slurs into the microphone to the few people in the audience that actually shows up. For his final act, he get sick and throws up off stage before passing out. Julien has to carry him off while Dagny refunds the money to angry audience members who hisses and spit at her in their drunk stupor.
He sobers up a few hours later, his blue eyes blurry still but he's coherent enough to stand on his own two feet and to make his way into a poker game with a few of the locals with money he doesn't really have. She watches him play from behind the stage curtain in the bar he's sitting in. She always watches but never makes a move to join in or to make a noise, at this point Dagny doesn't do much talking. Dangy likes to watch him though, and loves to listen to his stories, Murphy tells the best stories on the planet - he tells the same ones over and over but she never tires of hearing them. In fact she's fallen asleep listening to them more times then she can count, his voice is deep and soothing and lulls her to sleep.
He's so handsome too, and deep down she has an amazing crush on him and each time he kisses her cheek good night she hopes that he'll kiss her lips and pull her into his arms, but he never does. That doesn't stop her from trying once or twice, but each time she's turned down with a gentle smile and a pat on the head, he thinks she's a very stupid child but enjoys having his ego stroked by having some little thing fawning over him all the time.
Tonight she falls asleep listening to him and the plastic poker chips clattering on the table, all wrapped up in the velvet stage curtain her stomach growling but she's so exhausted it's easily ignored. Around four in the morning, she feels a hand on her shoulder, and looks up to see Murphy above her, smiling - it's an odd sort of smile but she doesn't seem to notice. She simply gets up and follows him out to the parking lot and the caravan. The lights are on inside, and there's music playing, some oldies station - the only station that continues to play that late at night.
He pulls her into his arms and starts to sway with her to the song that comes on, she snuggles up to his chest as her head tucks under his chin. Softly he hums to the song on the radio, The Spaniels, because Murphy knows every song under the sun. His over sized hand moving over her back, rubbing her through the fabric of her sun dress. Even as they move together she starts feeling sleepy once more until she is pretty much asleep on her feet.
When she wakes up, she on the back of the stage, curled up next to her suit case. It takes her a few long minutes to realize what actually happened, and even then she doesn't believe it. She runs through out the bar searching for Murphy or Julien, and then out to the parking lot in search for the caravan. They left her, she has no one to take care of her, and she had no one to take care of, she is now all alone. Sitting on the back steps she sniffles and finally starts to cry wiping at her blood shot eyes with the back of her hands as she whimpers and howls like a lost puppy.
Sometimes, she sits on her front steps and waits for him to come back - in some freak miracle or some amazing chance that he'll drive by and see her. It's some weird hope that she holds on to after all these years, but the older she gets the less she has and now it's just a ritual and a reminded that everyone leaves, and that everyone walks out. That people who do walk out are cowards and she's not going to be a coward any longer.
Well, it's three o'clock in the morning,
Baby, I just can't treat you right,
Well, I hate to leave you, baby,
Don't mean maybe, because I love you so.