They were friends
First met in a loud crowded hall
And there they sat
Resting backs up against the cinder block wall
He said he wrote songs
And he said he’d write one about her
And he left town
Kiss goodbye, engine start, speeding off in a blur, he said
I owe you one.
She wrote books
She’d send novels and stories and prose
Mind to page,
The heartbroken girl was still strong and composed
And she wrote for him.
Feeding ego’s the way to his heart
And he recalled,
That, god damn it, the promise he made from the start, he said
I owe you one.
A cigarette bounces on quivering lips,
While a pencil quite eagerly dances,
Writing songs about songs and words about words
Forgetting, abandoning chances
And I owe you one.
And they hadn’t talked for about seven months
All ‘cause he was afraid of commitment.
At the end of the day, it all fades away
Just like ice cream on playground equipment,
Melted ice cream on playground equipment,
Chocolate ice cream on playground equipment,
Melted ice cream on playground equipment.
credits
from Magazine Avenue,
released May 17, 2010
written by David:
