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Patron Saint of Bridge Burners
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My Best Unforgotten Friend
Most nights I remember you're gone.
I imagine if you hadn't passed on; if you were still here with me, what would have shaped up differently?
Would we be taking our turns taking cigarette burns?
Would we be counting our scars over scotch and cigars?
Would we stay up late?
And would we still relate, my best unforgotten friend?
Would my life be as fucked up?
Would that change be just enough?
Would you interfere, and would you steer me clear of the drinking, depression and drugs?
Maybe we'd just carry on.
Maybe I'd sing different songs.
I wonder if you would be singing songs too, and I wonder if I'd sing with you.
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Most nights I wish you were around.
Most nights I wonder if you'd be proud, and I wonder if in the end I'd still be worth calling your friend.
And if you got to see what I turned out to be, what would become of your vision of me?
And if you got to stay—well then what would you say, my best unforgotten friend?
Would my life be as fucked up?
Would that change be just enough?
Would you interfere, and would you steer me clear of the drinking, depression and drugs?
And maybe things just wouldn't change—maybe we'd stay just the same.
I wonder if you would be singing my songs, and I wonder if I'd sing along.
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