ThReE CaR GaRagE – Rich Williams

One Too Many

There’s this lady
in my place of business
Fell in love on a whim,
then asked herself, “Who is this?”
Left her crying.
In her mouth, a bad taste.
And a call to the lawyers,
in debt to her waste.

And I don’t blame her
for smoking three packs a day.
You can’t kill yourself fast
if you just fade away.
You can see it in her eyes.
She’s seen one, two,
one too many goodbyes.

I met a woman,
whose abstract fears
told an abstract story
of twenty-six years.
She’d sell her body,
just to get a ride home,
but she’d sell her soul
not to be alone.

But I don’t blame her
for the love she’s looking for you
Because you can’t bet your life
on what’s behind door number two.
You can see it in her eyes.
She’s seen one, two,
one too many goodbyes.

Yeah, there is a saviour.
A place where someone knows your name.
The light’s on the hill,
You can see him he’s real.
And there are angels.
They don’t just live in your dreams.
The truth is in his eyes.
Make this your last goodbye.

There’s a man I know who
no one would listen to.
He walked the earth,
unfollowed and forgot.
Love is all, love is all that he sought.
And now he wants to love you.

Because he don’t blame you
for the love he’s looking for you
he knows you can’t bet your life
on what’s behind door number two.
You can see it in his eyes:
This is your last goodbye.

Image credit: “Photo by Alex Green” (pexels/5700141)

“Bloom where you are” lyrics

There’s an old man trying to turn left,
and a little boy chasing a brown dog.
There’s a mad man going a little too fast,
and a black and white car, and a man who plays god.

There’s a schoolgirl crossing Broadway at three
and a football game in a vacant lot field.
There’s a poor poet wondering what is it I’m doing.
Well, I’m wondering: Is it for real?

Is it real, is it sane, tell me, what’s in a name?
And, where will you be in five minutes?
Is it real, is it sane, tell me, who’s to blame?
And, I’ll go home when I’m finished.
In five minutes.
Is it for real?

There’s a family wondering what they’ve got left,
and a fireman missing his black and white dog.
And there’s a boy and a girl moving a little too fast,
but not a soul searching for God.

There’s an actress belonging on Broadway,
she’s 33 and she’s wondering how it must feel.
There’s a poor poet wondering, “What is it I’m doing?”
Well, I’m wondering, “Is it for real?”

This is how you felt,
and the hand you were dealt
will never be understanded,
so bloom where you’re planted.

— Rich Williams c. 1997