Geraldine

Simon Joyner

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    Listen all your lovers and would-be lovers to my tale
    The moral of the story is not hidden
    Though there are some lies along the way to disguise the details
    The broad stroke of this picture shall render its true meaning
    I first collided with Geraldine on a Tuesday I believe
    It was so very long ago still I remember
    She just drifted by my window while I was pretending to be me
    Not yet realizing I was already forever changed by seeing her

    Into the cafe on the street where the faux French girls fake their slang
    While trying to sink their teeth into each other
    And all of them so dainty they must fan themselves all day
    Claiming the breath of the walking deathly homesick G.I. sufferers

    Geraldine sat alone of course nobody knew her name
    But I watched her from a field of wallflowers
    I can't remember why I ever started hanging around that place
    All anybody ever did was dream of dreary California

    The second time I saw Geraldine she asked me for a light
    She was trying to read a map in a shattered doorway
    I asked where she was running to or from or was it who
    She asked if I was talking back or moving forward

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    Soon we were doing everything we could do to fall in love
    We tumbled from the trees into the water
    For awhile we were as close as the light-bulb and the moth
    Bouncing off a wall as it grew hotter and hotter

    But one day I was tempted by a fleeting song I heard
    Whispered from the mouth of a passing stranger
    Who said everything happens for a reason and I deferred
    Not yet realizing I was already very much in danger

    The walls were yellow and thin and there was no window I could open
    And she just laughed into her pillow until she cried
    And because it was a loathsome thing I did it once again
    With a mirth that was disposable and a lament I couldn't hide

    When the stranger disappeared I couldn't stomach my face
    What will I do now that I have betrayed Geraldine
    I cowered through the market and purchased every angry grape
    And made a wine so bitter even the drunkards appeared clean

    I woke up on a Sunday and Geraldine was boiling milk
    "You've been far away," she said as if convincing me
    "I am further still," I cried, "than you may really want to know"
    She raised a finger to her lips to say I should be listening

    "I've been where you stand," she said, "once I was woeful and careless
    But I believe everything happens for a reason."
    "Well there it is again", I said, and ready to confess
    But she said "Only the guilty are ever really innocent."
    She said "Only the guilty are ever really innocent."

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    Composición: Simon Joyner

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