The Flight Home

('97 revised version)

Her empty room bore the signs 
Of other things on her mind
Her bed all messed up 
Curtain casts fractured shade
A bedside light 
Shining on a scratched record
And for two days 
The same piece of a sad song played

Riding the late train 
Working it out in her mind
At the window a shabby man 
Hummed a tune she'd never heard
It was barely a tune 
Singing simple words "la la da dum"
And as he muttered away 
It was another voice she heard
She was thinking maybe...

  She didn't hold him tight enough
  She didn't love him quite enough
  She didn't shine her affections bright enough
  But then he'd said "it isn't right enough"

In her hand she held the letter 
He usually used the phone
And when she'd fallen on her flatmate 
On that third of May
She made it sound so simple
"You don't need what lies back home"
But when Friday sauntered in
She knew she couldn't stay

A hurried note on the fridge
"Gone home to do a few things"
Because she knew nobody
Ever changed fate by remote control
Can you hear her mother laugh
Child you're such an optimist
But no one told her 
Sometimes you can't change fate at all

Stepping from the train
(With) A handful of loose change
Fumbled and dialled his number 
"Hey, please wait for the tone"
She left nervous silence 
And set off on foot alone
Down to the beach road cafe 
He could almost call home
And she was thinking maybe...

  She didn't hold him tight enough
  She didn't love him quite enough
  She didn't shine her affections bright enough
  But then he'd said something about "it wasn't right enough"

And she looked back to the hills
(and) The whispered glow of close of day
Turning back to face
The neon simmer of Nightclub Way
She shook her head
Why was she doing this?
It was like Pretty Woman that movie
"Say what's your dream miss?"
Braced herself at the door
Always hoping that he'd lied
(but) He was laughing and leaving
A new woman at his side
With a startled hello
Brushed past into the street
She went in and bought a drink 
Sank back in a comfy seat
Later there would be dancing
(But) For now she'd had enough
As she sat there and thought about herself
Well, sometimes you just got to laugh

  She didn't...
  She didn't...
  She didn't know what she was doing here.
© David Gilliver 1997
Feedback welcomed: david@lovetown.net

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