1. |
30 South of Freezing
05:06
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I was stumbling between the red-brick borders of the alley
wondering what I said to get me thrown out of the party.
I threw up near a dumpster and a server on a smoke break.
I couldn't bear an empty bed so I slept in a snow bank.
This must be the third time, at least the third I can remember
cos I've been on a bender since that long night in December
when I got drunk, called her ugly names, and tried to say, "I didn't mean it."
Never burn your bridges when it's 30 south of freezing.
And I'm so ashamed.
No one else to blame.
Never could say nothing right
even if I ever tried.
Tried to laugh it off and make it up by buying flowers.
I later came home to a note that told me not to call her.
I kept drinking, couldn't keep a job, and couldn't pay for heating.
Covers don't mean nothing when it's 30 south of freezing.
And I'm so ashamed.
No one else to blame.
Never could say nothing right
even if I ever tried.
Ran my mouth so bad tonight, my friends might never call me.
Fingers fighting frostbite; wonder if I'll see the morning.
I guess shit talk's always gonna cost you loved ones when you need them.
Just don't go burning bridges when it's 30 south of freezing.
And I'm so ashamed.
No one else to blame.
Never could say nothing right
even if I ever tried.
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2. |
Stevie
06:33
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When I went to pay my rent, my landlord told me my neighbor died.
I guess he had a bad heart and went in his sleep last night.
I can't say we were friends, but we'd get drunk sometimes
on ten dollar screw-cap wine.
I can't tell if the news makes me want to cry, and a cold wind blows by.
It's morning and there's furniture by the dumpster and cat toys on the sidewalk.
A local vagrant drags a mattress beneath the porch cos he lost his shelter cot.
The day starts to wane and Stevie's things are gone.
I'm gonna buy some screw cap wine.
His favorite Elvis poster dances across the lawn as a cold wind blows by.
Overeager officers waiting on the corner, antsy in the cold.
Michael's in the Rite Aid, violating his restraining order;
drunk and looking for smokes.
He's gonna start some shit with that poor high school kid who called the cops last time.
He's in the squad car again with some busted ribs as a cold wind blows by.
I'll tell some friends, "Come through", and tell them what I saw at Rite Aid.
Someone says, "Is something up with you?" I haven't lost much so I won't complain.
I mean it's not like we were friends, we just got drunk sometimes. "Does anybody want some wine?" When everybody leaves I bet I'm gonna cry, and a cold wind blows by.
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3. |
Dancers
08:13
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Back some September I met a bartender, but I can't remember her name.
6-foot tall blonde, born and bred in New Hampshire, and blue eyes with a lifetime of pain.
She was a tough one, she could take on the bouncer. They'd spar in the yard on dead nights.
Before the bar, she got by selling downers and dancing beneath the red lights.
The first night we met, I was black-out and half dead.
She let me pass out in her bed.
Ever since then when I'd come back drinking, she'd joke and she'd ask me for rent.
She'd pour me free shots while her boss wasn't watching.
We'd joke and talk shit to kill time.
Most nights whenever I hung out 'til closing we'd sit on her car and get high.
I never slept with her, it just wasn't like that. Our love hung above our skin.
We were too similar, our upbringings bad, and our lives wrought with all the same sins.
Most stories she'd tell, her dad beat her like hell and I told her how mine hurt me.
We'd laugh at the stories, we'd cry at the memories. Two guarded hearts found what they need.
And she'd say, "Getting so close to folks is a pain."
I'd say, "Hell girl, I can relate."
We'd watch the day bathe the hills of the Green Mountain state.
I can remember I found out I loved her some Saturday night that same year.
Some local band had everyone dancing and she hooked me up with free beer.
He sneered like a viper, his cold eyes were vacant when he grabbed her and told her to dance.
Something just hit me like summer time lightning. I watched as my fist took a swing.
I jabbed his right eye and pulled out a knife and I took a bar stool to his knee.
We brawled on the floor til the bouncer came forward and threw that son of a bitch to the night.
She was just standing behind the bar shaking. Her eyes down. She said, "I'm alright."
What stands out in my mind the most about that night isn't that I could've died.
There aint been a moment I felt more broken than seeing her try not to cry.
Then I stood beside her and we watched the dancers unwind on the hardwood floor; their bodies held tight as they waltzed through the night to a song I aint heard before.
And she said, "Getting so close to folks is a pain."
I said, "Goddamn, I can relate."
She held my hand as the last notes began to fade.
That was a long time and I know that she cried when I left town without a goodbye.
It's just who I am. I'm not a great man, but it felt like I was for a night.
Back some September I met a bartender, but I can't remember her name.
6-foot tall blonde, born and bred in New Hampshire.
Y'know what? I think it was Jane.
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Nick Awad Burlington, Vermont
Folk songs salty enough to melt your icy heart.
Based in Burlington,VT
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