Bread and Water

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John T. Wurzer

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He grew up wild in a trite suburban nightmare
Smoking dope and drinking beer behind the gym
From the abc's to the sat's
Plenty of promise no guarantees
Telling his Father that he'd grow up to be like him

He won a scholarship to a school in West Virginia
He met Virginia at a blood drive after hours
Flat on his back with a needle in his arm
She was telling a story about life on the farm
While holding his hand and smelling like fresh cut flowers

Most of the time he can live off bread and water
Most of the time he can't even remember her name
But once in awhile he still thinks about the farmers daughter
And everything he bought her
But most of the time there's no time to explain

They struggled through their first five years of marriage
Full of detour signs closed roads and a sharpened knife
On a frozen night a damp October moon
Drew the anger out and sent her to her tomb
And they sentence him to twenty years to life

Most of the time he can live off bread and water
Most of the time he can't even remember her name
But once in awhile he still thinks about the farmers daughter
And the night he caught her
But most of the time there's no time to explain

In a ten-foot cell he read from William Shakespeare
Tennessee Williams, Kipling, and Mark Twain
Dreaming every night of the play he'd write
About a tragic lover and an endless flight
Though a trembling sky full of thunder, hail, and rain

Most of the time he can live off bread and water
Most of the time he can't even remember her name
But once in awhile he still thinks about the farmers daughter
On the teeter-totter
But most of the time there's no time to explain

On a summer morning twelve years after the nightmare
They set him free with a suitcase and a pair of shoes
He plays his guitar in a local bar
Spends his money on beer and his rusted car
It's the price that you pay if you're gonna learn to sing the blues

Most of the time he can live off bread and water
Most of the time he can't even remember her name
But once in awhile he still thinks about the farmers daughter
And the night he shot her
But most of the time there's no time to explain

Every year every fifteenth of December
He wanders through a chilly winter mist
Dredges through his mind knowing what he'll find
A smoke-stained photograph that strikes him blind
He puts flowers on her gravestone and blows her a kiss

Most of the time he can live off bread and water
Most of the time he can't even remember her name
But once in awhile he still thinks about the farmers daughter
Susan Walker
But most of the time there's no time to explain

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