Last
night my brother cried,
But I didn’t see him do it.
His tears pooled up around the dark café
But it was too dark to see.
I could smell his blood because I came from the same,
I could call out for his health in the night
He never let us know
I pray that he’ll reach the clouds
But he never stops to stretch
He’s come a long way, my brother has
He speaks to Dad, rides his bike with Mum
Drinks from the same tap of uncertainty,
With Claudia, and I know he still thinks about her
But I can see in his eyes that he isn’t having fun these days
So I bought him a record, his favorite Beatle record
He played it so much that it fell to dust, Side A was “it's all too much”
Side B was “A day in the life”
Even the songs started to sound like he was right there telling me about them
He used to strum out a tune about someone’s woman who loved another woman, or
something like that.. he had a few too many,
He’s written about 65 songs but never played me any.. Now he just works himself
to dust
That’s not true. One time he danced over top of a candle and he drew blood, but
it was blood I recognized as my own,
I miss you my brother, but you get angry when I tell you..
Your chest hurt and we rushed you to the doctor, then the doctor rushed us out
of the room, and with all the rushing I forgot to tell you ‘I love you’