Cold-Hearted Love (feat. The Ugly Fun)

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Jack Dawkins

Jack Dawkins, better known as the Artful Dodger, is a character in Charles Dickens's 1838 novel Oliver Twist. The Dodger is a pickpocket, so called for his skill and cunning in that occupation. He is the leader of the gang of child criminals on the streets of London, trained by the elderly Fagin. The term has become an idiom describing a person with skilful deception. more »

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Old fashion glass on the bar, frosted
Grizzled chin steps across the room, he's exhausted
He's halted, by an image unsettling
Panic ensues, in his mind he's back pedaling
It's quiet but his inner voice is deafening
"Why did she have to die?" keeps echoing
Barkeep pours him whiskey on the rocks
Same stool every night but he never talks
A widow. He prefers reluctant bachelor
Gallow's humor his only savior from disaster
Depression is goliath and he lost his inner David
He'd be mad but he lacks the energy for hatred
The hole in his heart masks everything she gave him
He lost his angel, there's no one here to save him
She was innocent and limitless but the carcinogens
Took her, so she's no longer a participant
Why is God's justice such a blunt instrument
No matter, he can drink into oblivion
Now he keeps the company of pills and cold women
He'll drown if he stops, so he just keeps swimming
The heart won't beat so he lost all his rhythm
There's no color in this life without light in the prism
Another man arrives, pinstripes, alligator
Briefcase beneath the crook, key says navigator
Bartender asks him "what would set your mind at ease
"When I get back, double johnny black, neat"
Grizzled chin slaps 100 on the bar
Walks with alligator to the idling car
They ride in silence neither gives an inch
They park right by the Tappanzee Bridge
Water laps at the shore, both search for nerve
Pinstripes asks Grizzled Chin, "Any words?"
I suffer from suffocation.
I find no happy memories in my life or vacations
My yellow skin is the only thing hiding
The black rot that swallowed me inside
I will never forgive myself for what I never said
But now she's gone, and I'm already dead
The gunshot rings out
Birds scatter
Splashes into the river, no DNA spatter
Pinstripes leaves, as his teeth start to chatter
Old fashioned glass on the bar, frosted
Pinstripes steps across the room, he's exhausted
He's halted, by an image unsettling
Inner demons screaming, the sound is deafening
His phone glows, reads, "Final medical bill paid"
One life lost, another one saved
Whiskey helps, he can feel the pain mellowing
"Thank God she didn't die," keeps echoing
Drains the drink, walks back to the Lincoln
Furrowed brow because he can't stop thinking
His marriage continues, but it comes at what cost?
Is cold-hearted love really better than love lost?

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