I was waiting in the autumn
under a gentle rain of leaves
for someone to tell me a story
not trapped in the pages of books
But no one, not no one
had any memory
not hallowed, halcyon or ‘good ol’’

I stood at the end
of your yelling and the bed
both unmade and messy but able
to make up, to give up
just stop and walk away
from ultimatums
threats and promises

I was waiting at the sidewalk
under the light of the window
for a shower of clothing or more
Now I’m walking and I’m thinking
of all those past adores
that will haunt me and pester with ease

These strangers, these walkers
they pass me in their lives
looking sallow, looking mournful
just alike
What might they have
that I don’t have myself?
Those days hallowed, halcyon, or ‘good ol’’?

Any maybe I should be thankful
maybe I should appreciate
But it’s hard to be one of the rest
It’s hard to lay awake
in the damp shade of the night
and pour out on the tired rumpled sheets

So I give up and I take out
and I let you have your way
It’s not enough to just remember
never was
And sometimes, just sometimes
I can bring them up again
those days hallowed, halcyon or ‘good ol’’

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