La Dispute - Edward Benz, 27 Times Lyrics
I heard the old man's voice break, stutter once then stop it. IHeard
A sentence started confidently halted by the sudden absence ofA word. Stumbled and he sputtered trying to find it back, something once soSimple gone now.
When he finally gave up told me, "Aw, it's likeHell getting old."When you came into the store, did you know you'd show me your scars?I had a heavy heart, he carried a door, it's shattered pane all wrapped inPlastic and
He asked if I could fix it, come by a little later helpHim put it back on hinges.
"See, I'm far too old to lift it and it'sNot for my house, it's my son's."When you opened up the door, what is it you thought you'd find?Nobody flinch.Later I came by and backed into the driveway. Got out to find him waitingThere to lead me
Through the side yard to back behind the house whereThe door frame stood empty and helped
Me keep it steady while IHammered all the pins in then later on the porch we somehow gotTo
Talking, he told me of the house and how is son is schizophrenicSo they purchased it for him,
The medication working and they figuredIt would help him fit in, help him lead a normal life.But the pills made him sleep too much. And he couldn't keep a job as aResult so one day he just
Gave up on taking them. And that day sheHad called you, he'd locked her outside of the house.How quickly did you get there? And what were you thinking while walking up?
What fears flashed in front of you, taunted you, walking to unlockThe door?I remember it, Ed. That story you told me came back clear tonight hereWhile writing. And you
Should know the feeling never left me–theWeight of my heart–when you showed me the scars
On your arms, when ILooked in your eyes and I heard what you said how you probablyWould've
Died were it not for to care for your daughter and wife. HowHe drove in the knife, still your son, How you seemed to look through me to some old projector screen playing backThe scene as
You described it on a movie reel, as real as the minuteWhen it happened, that memory moving
Behind me. That moment thatChanged you for good.And he drove to the house and pulled into the driveway. Got out to find hisWife waiting, frantic.
She'd come by to check, found that pillboxWas empty, went out to the pharmacy to fill up his
Prescription andCame back to a locked door and could not get back in.
She'd knockedAnd she'd knocked but he wasn't responding.You put the key into the lock and turned it. Felt the bolt slide away.Slowly open.
Went into the hall, his son held a knife, standing offIn the shadows, lunged forward and tackled Him.
Stabbing him overAnd over and breaking that window. He fled up the staircase.
TheAmbulance came; stitched and filled him with blood while the cops took hisSon with his wires so
Tangled his father was a stranger.And I sit in my apartment.
I'm getting no answers.
I'mFinding no peace, no release from the anger.
I leave it at armsLength.
I'm keeping my distance.
From hotels and Jesus andBlood on the carpet.
I'm stomaching nothing.
I'm reaching forNo one.
I'm leaving this city and I'm headed out to nowhere.
I carry your image.
Your grandfather's coffin.
And Ed, If you hear me, I think of you often.
That's all I can offer.
That's all that I know how to give.
