Haligh,  Haligh,  A  Lie,  Haligh  -  Bright  Eyes

  The  phone  slips  from  a  loose  grip.

  Words  were  missed  then  some  apology  like

  I  didn't  want  to  tell  you  this

  it's  just  some  guys  she  has  been  hanging  out  with

  oh  I  don't  know  the  past  couple  of  weeks  I  guess.

  Thank  you  and  hang  up  the  phone.

  Let  the  funeral  start.  Hear  the  casket  close.

  Let's  pin  split-black  ribbon  onto  your  overcoat.

  Still  laughter  pours  from  under  doors  in  this  house.

  I  don't  understand  that  sound  no  more.

  It  seems  artificial  like  a  T.V.  set.

  Haligh,  Haligh,  Haligh,  Haligh  this  weight  it  must  be  satisfied.

  You  offer  only  one  reply.

  You  know  not  what  you  do.

  But  you  tear  and  tear  your  hair  from  roots.

  From  that  same  head  you  have  twice  removed  a  lock  of  hair

  you  said  would  prove  our  love  would  never  die.

  Well  ha  ha  ha.

  But  I  remember  everything  the  words  we  spoke  on  freezing  South  street.

  And  all  those  morning  watching  you  get  ready  for  school.

  You  combed  your  hair  inside  that  mirror.

  The  one  you  painted  blue  and  glued  with  jewelry  tears.

  Something  about  those  bright  colors  always  made  you  feel  better.

  So  now  we  speak  with  ruined  tongues  and  the  words  we  say  aren't    meant  for  anyone.

  It's  just  a  mumbled  sentence  to  a  passing  acquaintance,

  but  there  was  once  you  said  you  hated  my  suffering  and  you  understood  and  you＇d  take  care  of  me.  You  would  always  be  there,  well  where  are  you  now?

  Haligh,  Haligh,  Haligh,  Haligh,  the  plans  were  never  finalized

  but  left  to  hang  like  yarn  and  twice  dangling  before  my  eyes.

  As  you  tear  and  tear  your  hair  from  roots,

  from  that  same  head  that  you  have  twice  removed  a  lock  of  hair

  you  said  would  prove  that  our  love  would  never  die.

  As  I  sing  and  sing  of  awful  things,

  the  pleasure  that  my  sadness  brings  as  my  fingers  press  onto  the  strings

  you  get  another  clumsy    chord.

  Haligh,  Haligh,  an  awful  lie.

  This  weight  will  now  be  satisfied.

    I  will  give  you  only  one  reply,

  I  know  not  who  I  am  but  I  talk  in  the  mirror  to  the  stranger  that  appears.

  Our  conversations  are  circles  and  always  one  sided,  nothing  is  clear.

  Except  we  keep  coming  back  to  this  meaning  that  I  lack.

  He  says  the  choices  were  given  and  now

  I  must  live  them  or  just  not  live,

    but  do  you  want  that?