My troubled heart has always brought me here on gray and dreary days,
Back to this small town, to the banks of this languorous, idle lake.
I could smell the earth beneath my feet, and the distinct scent of the water,
I would sit and reflect on all that I've been; lover, child, granddaughter.
Could it be that nearly a decade has gone by since we met,
In an old brick store that smelled of newspapers and cigars?
What I would give to go back in time, to when I didn't love you yet,
And look the other way, before you lit that match and burned my heart.
"I'm sorry," you wept as you saw my blood on your hands,
Salt tears streamed down your face and mingled with mine in a kiss farewell.
You cried at what you'd done, but you couldn't help it, there was no taking back,
"I just don't love you, I'm a loner, it's me alone," breathless, sobbing words that cast me to Hell.
So here I sit, nearly ten years later, a woman grown in this same small town,
And you're out there somewhere with your wife, smiling into her eyes so unlike my own.
The old store is closed now, but there's a Blackbird singing in the rain soaked pines,
An omen and a promise, that this hasn't just been wasted time.
He sings and he shuffles, and his wings beckon me away,
From this same small town and this slow and idle lake.