Singing The Same Song

I’ve been speaking half-truths so much recently

Like ‘I'm ok,’ and ‘You still mean the same to me’.

But as a man lost in the 21st century

The only outlet I find is to quote Springsteen cryptically.

I’m out of town; there’s nothing here for me anymore.

But that doesn’t mean my mind isn’t full of what came before.

There are some things about which I just cannot laugh;

There are moments of hurt and pain that I can’t look past.

The time has gone to tell you,

But if the words I haven’t said

Were written down with notes and chords

And not held up by broken walls

Then I’d sing you a song from a dark place,

I’m not there now but you can see it in the lines on my face.

I could sing you a song from a dark place,

I’m not there now but you can see it in the cracks in my faith.

I can still see clearly the afternoon at the start of the change,

Standing on the bridge, feeling strange in the Yorkshire rain.

I’d step past you, but you’d pull me through like I’d never been,

And who’d have thought it would happen so romantically.

And though they say that time is what will heal you when you’re faced with pain,

I know it was you and what’s more that’s what my mother says.

And though my mind be confused by time, drink and sleepless haze,

I’ll never forget what came after the day in the Yorkshire rain

And in time you came to tell me

With words you’d never said

Of old souls and breaking walls,

In letters, beds and telephone calls

You sang me a song from a dark place,

You’re not there now but I can see it in the lines on your face.

You sang me a song from a dark place,

You’re not there now but I can see it in the cracks in your faith.

I said ‘How can you love me, you don’t even know me yet?’

You said ‘I know your soul’ and that’s all I was gonna get.

Sometimes it’s about someone who takes you when they know your wrongs

And sometimes it’s about someone just singing the same song.

--

This piece was written in 2013, as a song which was never quite good enough as a song, but remains one of my favourite pieces of writing. My brother read it in church at my wedding this year. The picture is not of a bridge in the Yorkshire rain, but it is of the view from the bridal suite of the Worcestershire hotel where we held our wedding reception.