It’s (kinda) Spring in Boston, and, although I know I said I wasn’t going to post anymore working demos of new songs, I only make up rules so I can break them. This song won’t be on an album (working title “Ostrich”) until next year, but it certainly has relevance at this time of year. Each new Spring gets tougher and tougher to handle emotionally…for many reasons. My manic/depressive personality spins out of control and…I write songs…
THE HALF OF IT
Tourists and hipsters are flooding the sidewalks
They’re spilling out into the streets.
And Sunday’s the worst time to be single in Boston
Everybody you meet
Is half of a couple, half still asleep
Hungry and looking for food
Everyone seems to be loving the sunshine
They’re all in a good fucking mood.
You left when you said you would go
You thought you knew
All you needed to know
But you don’t know the half of it, do you?
hearts are either fickle or true
mine’s black and it’s blue
And it’s broken in two
And half of it left here with you
There are ducks in the public garden
There are frogs on the esplanade
Most couples came straight here from church
where they were just talking to god
half of me just wants to go back to a time
when you were still talking to me
half of the things that I thought were true
were just my own fantasy.
I’d like to pick up the phone and call you
Just to hear the lilt of your voice
But I never do and, anyway,
We both made a that choice
But choices that are hard to live with
They scream like the morning sun
They blind me and find me sitting alone
Waiting for the day to be done.