Saddle in the Rain

Lyrics to Saddle in the Rain, by John Prine:

I wish, I hope, I wonder
Where you’re at sometimes
Is your back against the wall?
Or just across the line
Have you been standing in the rain
Reciting nursery rhymes?
Trying to recall
Some long lost kind of peace of mind
Peace of mind
Try spending the night sometime
All alone in a frozen room
Afterneath you’ve lain
Your Saddle in the rain

I dreamed they locked God up
Down in my basement
And he waited there for me
To have this accident
So he could drink my wine
And eat me like a sacrament
And I just stood there like I do
Then I came and went
I came and went
Like a bird in a foreign sky
Couldn’t even say good bye
Or come and share the pain
My Saddle’s in the rain

I saw a friend who doesn’t know
If I’m his friend just yet
His eyes and mouth were widely open
And his jaw was set
Like he’d fell off a cliff
And hadn’t hit the bottom yet
I wish he wouldn’t pull those things on me
Without a net
Without a net
I had him up to the house one time
And we was having a real good time
Then he went and lain
His Saddle in the rain

In a laundromat not too far
From the Alamo
Sits a girl who stole my records
Very long ago
And she wishes, wants and washes
Out those dirty clothes
As she shuts her eyes and dreams
About her one eyed Joe
One eyed Joe
Car parked on a dirty road
Heaven knows the load she pulled
Couldn’t take the strain
A Saddle in the rain

It’s been a hard week here in Connecticut.  I mean, these things happen somewhere else, not here.  The hardest part is pretending it happened and pretending it didn’t.  That is, telling friends and others “Yeah, we’re fine.”  That’s pretending it didn’t happen.  But it did.  And then you dive into your soul to dig for some suffering.  That’s pretending it did happen, in the sense that it happened to you.

But it didn’t.

I (and a lot of other people) live about 30 miles from Netwtown.  On this rainy morning, a week after the fact, we sorrow in the fact that we’re not really–not really–griefstricken.  our grief, such as it is, anger.  Anger on behalf of people we didn’t know, didn’t love, didn’t touch.  But at the same time, we know that there were people who loved, who touched.  But it’s not the same, is it?

It’s almost Christmas.  Back to normal soon.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s