THE CHILLING COLD

Here’s another story ‘bout a man
Whose wife betrayed him with his own best friend
He bought a coffee shop, made it a bar
In a distant town where no one else could find him
What a shock it was! But was it after all?
Or was it just his fate? To always be alone?
For in his life it’s true: He made no one happy.
And that included him. Happy wasn’t him.

Anger, pain, enjoyment, all were gone
He wondered how it was that others feel
No emotion dawn to dusk and dusk to dawn
How can you feel when nothing here is real?
And in his little bar, tucked in a dark backstreet
There was no depth or weight, his privacy complete
And there he kept his heart, tethered to his bar
The haunting memories so near and yet so far

One day there came a knocking on the door
The sound from which no one of us can run
Knocking on the door upon his heart
As time stood still and everything was one
All the weight of want, of regret and remorse
Blocking up the flow, nowhere else to go
And in the summer shade the willow branches swayed
But in a small dark room, a hand reached out to him

Eyes shut, he felt a warm hand on his own
A part of him that he had long forgotten
“Yes, I am hurt,” he said, “and hurt so deeply”
He said it once again and began weeping
But all the while he wept, the rain did not let up
Drenching all the world in the chilling cold
And all the while he wept, the rain did not let up
Drenching all the world in the chilling cold

A Song Can Tell A Story

When words leave off, music begins.

THE CHILLING COLD