Wednesday, April 04, 2007

McClinchy's

(First draft of new lyrics)

He believed in his whisky
like a cure for his ills
as if he was snake-bit all the time
whisky was the slow soft death
it suited him just fine

Tuesday night at McClinchy's
She just wandered in
dazed from the cold and the pain
McClinchy's looked warn
in bar light glow
a haven from the cold bitter rain
If she'd known that he'd be there
she'd have just kept walking
He was cold in her heart
that was true
but she was sitting
and waiting for a glass of cheap red
before she knew he was sitting there too
He raised a glass, an old gesture
she stared straight ahead
but in the bar's mirror he was looking at her too
so she stared into the wine
like a prayer an incantation
He said
"If you're here, it can't be good news."

He believed in his whisky
like a cure for his ills
as if he was snake-bit all the time
whisky was the slow soft death
it suited him just fine

One glass of red was enough to warm her
two could ease her pain
and three made him warmer in her heart
by closing, she had missed the late train

They stumbled together through the
late night mist
to his walk-up down by the tracks
In the grey light of morning
she knew she was going
to leave him again
as always, for the last time

He believed in his whisky
like a cure for his ills
as if he was snake-bit all the time
whisky was the slow soft death
it suited him just fine

McClinchy's on Main Street
is down by the tracks
where the trains from the city roll in
The whisky is cheap
and it's dark and it's quiet
if you stop there
you'll be back again

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