I thought I'd throw my hat into the ring...
I got the idea for this for two reasons...
a) I'm nearing my 51st year (thoughts of my own mortality)
b) What might be the scenario after I'm gone?
The words are here, the music is written and I recorded it yesterday. It is still work in progress as it now needs to be polished.
'Producing a gemstone starts with pulling a rock out of the ground.'
To Jack...
On a bench dedicated to the man that she loved, she remembers the years gone by.
In the park by the river where the birds stop to rest, on the spot where they used to lie.
She remembers the laughter, the hope and the fears,
The dreams of the future, now gone with the years.
She remembers his humour and occasional tears and the far away look in his eyes.
She lives every day, one day at a time; She visits with Jack when she can
And the bench sits alone when she has to go home
In her mind they still walk hand in hand
Her thoughts tumble backward to the day that they met, it was warm with the bluest sky
How they talked while they walked around the paths in the park, together till they said goodbye
Soon they were wed, for true love they had found
He looked so proud, with their friends all around
And each Sunday they'd sit once again on the ground, swearing love till the day they died.
She lives every day, one day at a time; She visits with Jack when she can
And the bench sits alone when she has to go home
In her mind they still walk hand in hand
The house where she loved him now sits empty and cold though she knows she must soon go back
And she still hears the echoes of his voice and she knows that his clothes she must one day pack
Deep in her heart, she is still asking 'why'?
How can she live when her man had to die
And the loneliness seeps out in a tremulous sigh, 'please hold me again, my Jack'
She lives every day, one day at a time; She visits with Jack when she can
And the bench sits alone when she has to go home
In her mind they still walk hand in hand
Lead break
She lives every day, one day at a time; She visits with Jack when she can
And the bench sits alone when she has to go home
In her mind they still walk hand in hand
Every Sunday she sits, and she talks while she knits though there's no one around to hear
There's a ghost of a smile upon her lips for a while, its as if he was standing near
She stands to go home for she knows he has gone
The bench bears his name and she knows it won't be long
When hers will be added for that’s where it belongs, her hand wipes away the tears.
She lives every day, one day at a time; She visits with Jack when she can
And the bench sits alone when she has to go home
In her mind they still walk hand in hand
I got the idea for this for two reasons...
a) I'm nearing my 51st year (thoughts of my own mortality)
b) What might be the scenario after I'm gone?
The words are here, the music is written and I recorded it yesterday. It is still work in progress as it now needs to be polished.
'Producing a gemstone starts with pulling a rock out of the ground.'
To Jack...
On a bench dedicated to the man that she loved, she remembers the years gone by.
In the park by the river where the birds stop to rest, on the spot where they used to lie.
She remembers the laughter, the hope and the fears,
The dreams of the future, now gone with the years.
She remembers his humour and occasional tears and the far away look in his eyes.
She lives every day, one day at a time; She visits with Jack when she can
And the bench sits alone when she has to go home
In her mind they still walk hand in hand
Her thoughts tumble backward to the day that they met, it was warm with the bluest sky
How they talked while they walked around the paths in the park, together till they said goodbye
Soon they were wed, for true love they had found
He looked so proud, with their friends all around
And each Sunday they'd sit once again on the ground, swearing love till the day they died.
She lives every day, one day at a time; She visits with Jack when she can
And the bench sits alone when she has to go home
In her mind they still walk hand in hand
The house where she loved him now sits empty and cold though she knows she must soon go back
And she still hears the echoes of his voice and she knows that his clothes she must one day pack
Deep in her heart, she is still asking 'why'?
How can she live when her man had to die
And the loneliness seeps out in a tremulous sigh, 'please hold me again, my Jack'
She lives every day, one day at a time; She visits with Jack when she can
And the bench sits alone when she has to go home
In her mind they still walk hand in hand
Lead break
She lives every day, one day at a time; She visits with Jack when she can
And the bench sits alone when she has to go home
In her mind they still walk hand in hand
Every Sunday she sits, and she talks while she knits though there's no one around to hear
There's a ghost of a smile upon her lips for a while, its as if he was standing near
She stands to go home for she knows he has gone
The bench bears his name and she knows it won't be long
When hers will be added for that’s where it belongs, her hand wipes away the tears.
She lives every day, one day at a time; She visits with Jack when she can
And the bench sits alone when she has to go home
In her mind they still walk hand in hand
