The Well

I returned home five minutes ago from the Communicycle Co-op. Tonight I learned what one youth is experiencing at home. Mom and Dad spew searing words at each other as the children pretend not to hear the shouts from their bedroom. The two separate and try to make it work, separate again and patch it up. They have decided to divorce, which will be the second time this youth has experienced this sort of brokenness in his short life.

Pithy paragraphs about my adventurous romp through a makeshift recording project would insult the weight of this kid's circumstances. I have nothing to offer except the sadness lurking in the deepest places. Below are a few lyrics that attempt to address this trying situation.


The Well

Tattered soul, a twelve year old
Pulled apart at the seams
Shattered windowpanes on the floor
Clasping on to vanished dreams

Wrap the hurt in cigarettes
Drown the tears in shouts of rage
Pound your fists into the wall
Lock the pain into a cage

Chorus:
Bite your lip; tough as stone
Severed heart; frozen cold
Plaster smile; no one knows
The well ran dry
The well ran dry