You learn to take your coffee black You learn to drink your whiskey neat You learn to take your shower cold And sleep on tired feet
You learn to order dinner in You learn to send the laundry out You learn how to amuse yourself You learn to live without
You tell yourself you’re rich at last in money and in time You draw a bath and then unplug the phone You pour yourself a Pinot Clo Du Val 2003 You sit a spell a queen upon her throne You go to bed alone
You learn to fall asleep alone You learn to silence ticking clocks You learn to pull the shades at night And double check the locks
You learn to speak so calmly when Your heart would like to scream and shout You learn to stop and breathe and smile You learn to live without
You find the coat and tie you thought you’d given to good will You toss his favorite shoes onto the pile You see him in the faces of the boys he left behind And die a bit with every tiny smile But only for a while
You learn to count the quiet winds An hour with no unprompted tears And not to count the deadly days As they fade into years
You learn to stand alone at last So brave and bold and strong and stout You learn somehow to like the dark And even love the doubt
You learn to hold your life inside you And never let it out You learn to live and die and then to live You learn to live without
You learn to live without You learn to live without