lirik lagu waiting for the horsemen – 1,2,3
[instrumental]
[spoken]
a half*drunk bottle of heaven and hill washed up to my second*story window this afternoon
i had my head poked out looking for helicopters, or hors*m*n, or something. i pulled it in with a broom
after serious consideration, i went all the over to denise from 213 to knock. some guy answered with a “who the f*ck’re you?” face. i swung the bottle around my back and said “just wanted to see if everyone was okay”
he said something and i replied “okay, just let me know”. i didn’t know what i wanted him to let mе know
so i walked down to jim from 204—his kid answered. “you seen napolеon?”
“no, sorry buddy,” i replied, and squeezed past him, partially concealing the bottle with my thigh. i walked into the living room where jim was sitting on the couch, staring at the flat screen like it worked
he swiveled his head around and asked the same question his kid did
“not since there were streets,” i said
“man, anna’s been torn up about that yippy t*rd.”
jim changed the subject to mold when anna came ripping out of the bedroom, hollering “don’t you dare talk about that poor little thing like that!”
i began to back towards the door as she was giving it to jim. he craned his neck around and asked “what’s with the bottle?”
“you know where to find me,” i said. once more i gave my apologies to the kid for not knowing where his dog was, and started back down the soggy hall
when i rounded the corner toward my apartment, there was the old man from the first floor, slouched over with his small face in his large hands, sitting on the wet carpet. i hadn’t seen him around much lately, even before the storm
“are you alright?” i asked
his voice wobbled counter*rhythmic to his neck skin as he talked: “i got beth safely to the boat. they didn’t have room for me. they said they’d come back. they said they’d come back.”
beth was his wife. she died three summers ago. he had the wake in their apartment, and people clogged the hall for two days and two nights
“well, what are you gonna do in the meantime?”
he just glared at the dark beige of the wall and shrugged
i held up the bottle and swished it back and forth. “come on, you can dry off at my place, and maybe we’ll have a drink.”
i had to help him out
we spent the night drinking cheap whiskey, talking about john houston movies and cars i’d never seen in person, and we waited for the hors*m*n
[instrumental]
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