From the recording Bookmark (2004)

In cart Not available Out of stock

I often try to put myself in other people’s shoes and tell their story the way I might experience it (“Mary”, “Bus 152”, “One Horse Town”). Though it feels natural as a writing technique, empathy, nonetheless, challenges me in very healthy ways. In this song, I, instead, put myself in my own shoes some 40 years in the future. It is an attempt to reconcile myself to not only my own mortality, but that of my best friend. Here, I imagine and explore the taxing of a widowed soul. I am sometimes too aware of death. This song is about the unavoidable loss of loved ones.

Lyrics

Please forgive me if I don’t say much
We were a quiet couple and we talked by touch
I never thought this day would come
When I would be alone

Married under heaven in ‘97
We thought the world complete that second
But grief’s a cold and lonely weapon
That I don’t want to own

September Sunday is on my clothes
She gave the dream inside me all its hope
She cried her eyes out, she smiled her joys
And now the woman, the woman is in my voice

There’s no real way to say goodbye
45 years is most of one’s life.
I, myself, am scared to cry
‘cause then I leave you here.

Now our bed is far too cold
All I’ve got are the sheets to hold.
Is this the part where I let go
And love you in my winter dreams?

September Sunday is on my clothes
She gave the dream inside me all its hope
She cried her eyes out, she smiled her joys
And now the woman, the woman is in my voice
September Sunday