zephyr
The guilty undertaker sighs
The lonesome organ grinder cries
The lonesome organ grinder cries
Begrudgingly you take the glass and raise it to your lips, swallowing down a gulp. Score one for the boy with the puppy dog eyes.
You're having a little bit of difficulty focusing on him, but he isn't looking at you either so maybe you're getting away with it. Not super confident how to best reply to the first confession you keep your big mouth shut, doing your best to listen intently to and not immediately run away from the disaster you've invited.
But his next bit? Wanting someone to care for and look after him? "Whaddya think I've been doin'?" you snort under your breath, feeling suddenly very wounded indeed.
And then he makes it worse.
Suddenly stony you lean back on the couch, arms crossing over your chest. "I see." Realistically speaking you have no right to feel this hurt - you're the one who rejected him, after all - but hearing that you're nothing more than another in a string of very nice men has rubbed you a little raw. So all he wanted this whole time was... What? A husband? Someone to be this perfect image of a man for him?
"An' here I thought ya liked me fer my charmin' sense'a humor." Deadpan as the grave you say this with a dry snort of amusement, scowling up at the ceiling. "So that's all this has been, eh? A means to an end?"
You're having a little bit of difficulty focusing on him, but he isn't looking at you either so maybe you're getting away with it. Not super confident how to best reply to the first confession you keep your big mouth shut, doing your best to listen intently to and not immediately run away from the disaster you've invited.
But his next bit? Wanting someone to care for and look after him? "Whaddya think I've been doin'?" you snort under your breath, feeling suddenly very wounded indeed.
And then he makes it worse.
Suddenly stony you lean back on the couch, arms crossing over your chest. "I see." Realistically speaking you have no right to feel this hurt - you're the one who rejected him, after all - but hearing that you're nothing more than another in a string of very nice men has rubbed you a little raw. So all he wanted this whole time was... What? A husband? Someone to be this perfect image of a man for him?
"An' here I thought ya liked me fer my charmin' sense'a humor." Deadpan as the grave you say this with a dry snort of amusement, scowling up at the ceiling. "So that's all this has been, eh? A means to an end?"
The silver saxophones say I should refuse you
But it's not that way, I wasn't born to lose you
But it's not that way, I wasn't born to lose you
