Wednesday 9 June 2010

Some days I do better than anyone else, oddly enough.

We don't talk about these things, normally.
All wet hey you might need a raincoat
Shakedown dreams walking in broad daylight
Three hundred sixty five degrees
Burning down the house
It was once upon a place sometimes I listen to myself
Gone come in first place
People on their way to work baby what did you expect
Gonna burst into flame

My house is out of the ordinary
That's right don't want to hurt nobody
Something sure can sweep me off my feet
Burning down the house
PJ met me at the door this morning, rain dripping off his beard, leaving a pool on the tiles. He nodded. Voraciously.

You got it right, Bridget, except for one thing. We would have stopped him. You know? I can be as selfish as the rest of 'em and some days I would have loved to throw preacher off a cliff myself because he locked you down so badly but at the end of the day the hurt he brought upon you is something I never would have let him get away with and ask any of us, we would all say that to you. At any hour of any day. He didn't have the right to do this and I still don't know how you get out of bed in the morning sometimes.

For this, PJ.


And I went and took my morning hug from him, fourth in the day so far. They average twelve minutes apiece, you know.