The hours turn to minutes
And the minutes drag like years.
I say “these are not diamonds,
I'm afraid they're only tears.
So why don't you stop crying
And dig a little more?
Maybe then you'll figure out
What you were crying for.
I pity your self-pity
But I cannot sympathise.
You're supposed to be an eagle;
You should not hawk at flies.”

He gave her the cold shoulder
I gave her mine to cry on,
Said she'd never had a friend
So I said she could try one...
I said she was beautiful,
Did all a true friend would;
I said that she was honest,
I told her she was good.
Say “it's difficult to find
Anyone who speaks the truth,
But in a world of human beings
Who envies the lone wolf?”

The sun seems slow in rising
Will it ever get to dawn?
If we must talk for hours
Can't we do it in the warm?
I think my watch is lying,
Three-fifteen can't be true -
Seems like she's been crying now
About a week or two.
I say “I'll just get a drink
For our little baffled queen.”
Think she's cried enough salt water
To make the ocean green.

I feel the cold more keenly,
My patience wearing thin,
And start to think that silence
Is an underrated thing.
I say “You are an eagle,
So go take to your wings.”
And think my favourite songbird
Is one which never sings.
And still she keeps on talking
While I look up at the sky
'til her problems seem very small,
But by then so do I.

It's now I begin to wish
That I'd been concentrating...
It seems her topic has changed
Because now she's berating
Some kind of P.A. System
That she calls her mother
And the bat-and-ball game life
She led with her brother.
I say “No bars can hold you,
You are a fighting cockerel;
So go live like a fighting cock,
Go crow on your dunghill.”

And still she keeps on talking
And I do not hear a word,
Just dream up new metaphors
Which involve some type of bird.
Now I begin to wonder
How she can be so young
And still have a life story
Which is so goddamn long-
If I'd spent this time reading
A biography of her
By now I would be halfway through
'Also by this author'.

And then at last it's over.
How I love the word 'goodnight'.
I lie “it's been a pleasure”
And “I think you'll be alright.”
So now I'm out of earshot
I whistle my way home
And think warmly of people
Now that I'm on my own.
Heard some people really care.
Can't say I've ever met one.
I know I won't loose any sleep;
Maybe she will get some.


by Matt