Shane Koyczan and the Short Story Long - My Darling Sara | Текст песни

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• Shane Koyczan and the Short Story Long
• My Darling Sara

The failing use of my right hand
isn't actually the failing use of my right hand
it's just another way to tell the time
and I'm ticking
so I've been picking myself up at bars
with a bottle in each hand
I only make plans with myself for the day after next
but by the time the sun swings back around into position
I forget the context of why I asked myself out
in the first place
did I think I was going to score?
I let a stranger pour me one more
she says
my name is Sara
doesn't take much more than that
to start a relationship
My darling, Sara
cleans rooms for a living
giving her youth and beauty
to dirt and dust
understands more than most
that family must be the foot you put forward first
you must weather the worst together
but having neber met her family
she places love above all else
then protests that I use the word love
too freely in poems
and I should really just say what I mean
and I suppose what I mean most is that
I'm trying
she's been buying me time
on a maxed out credit card
arms scarred from selling her own blood
to pay down the debt
tells me she doesn't mind going broke
just so long as I can giver her a little swear
she says
try
so I do my best impression
of a pen
and when every problem looks like a page
I commit ink to paper
the worth of the words that come out
determines my wage
I've been making enough
to pay her the compliment
of not quitting.
of not sitting
when standing is required
she only asks that I put the effort n
and in return she's willing
to pin a paper heart to her chest
then do her best impression
of a target
She tells me that effort
is the siamese twin of success
so when everyone else looks like a wrong answer
she says she'll settle for being my best guess
so we lie in bed like a mess
that someone's been meaning to clean
for the large part
of a long while
we lie there like a pile of dirty laundry
and how we'll ever come clean
is beyond me
so we don't
she says
it's supposed to be dirty
and if by the end you haven't hurt me
then you didn't try
so I do my best impression
of a surgeon
cutting purple hearts out of my own
use my veins like thread
then have hurt sewn to our skin like medals
because when the bleeding stops
and that dust settles
all we have are our wounds
to wear like decorations
upon our chest
Sara does her best impression of a war
tells me not to count my pride among casualties
because maybe faith means never keeping score
she says there's more to effort than just switching gears
and in terms of what one should give in life
sweat holds more value than tears
you have to try
and even though
the failing use of my right hand
means I'll never land a knockout punch
in the first round
life is composed of sound and fury
whatever noise is left in me
will be twice as loud when I try
so I plug myself into the idea of going the distance
and I amplify
My darling, Sara
has a throat like a vase
she sings her words into bloom
has voice like perfume
it's been sticking to my clothes
so everyone knows where I've been sleeping
she's been keeping me so close
you could use my body for evidence
pull her fingerprints as proof
that she's been on top so often
she's starting to look like my roof
but a real sexy roof
and she doesn't leak
unless you count the crying
she does that sometimes
worries that she's just a back up plan
My darling, Sara.
I've lived long enough to learn
too many choices can destroy a man
I will make no exodus
I'll be around long enough
to watch uncertainty bid us farewell
the echo our names into the crater
caused by the impact
of when our lack of conviction fell
you've never had to sell me on the idea
of absolute certainty in the trustworthiness of another
the first and only time you met my mother
mom said
\"I like the way she looks at you\"
and I echoed back to her
that I liked it too.
eyes like recycle bin blue
Sara looks at broken things
as if she can make them new
more than a few times I've caught her staring
caught her wearing
a smile reserved for those busy making plans.
Sara believes that distance is a fundamental
that can be side-stepped by a piece of string
and two tin cans
and I remember when my tin can rang.
they said
there's no family to speak of
so love is next in line
and there's not a lot of time but
she's asking for her boyfriend
in the cab to the hospital I feel my heart bend
as if bracing for impact
so I do my best impression of a man
and face fact.
it's supposed to hurt.
a doctor does his best impression of the truth
and spares me his attempts to skirt around the issue.
they can't stop the bleeding
and the failing use of Sara's heart
isn't actually
the failing use of Sara's heart.
it's just another way to tell the time.
My darling, Sara
I was holding your hand when you died
and even though the failing use of my right hand
prevented me from feeling you leave.
I tried.

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