The Old Parade
Tom Walters
So I wept
As I sat there drinking
The church bells ringing
The rain was singing in a way
Then I crept
Down those streets of sorrow
With pain I'd borrowed
From a writer playing games with his heart
Alone in the dark
The times we would dance
To a jukebox left stranded outside the old parade
Those times they don't last
In a torn photograph
Your memory will live on the walls of the old parade
Then I saw
Your ghost-like figure
In the bathroom mirror
The kids doing lines in the back
By the door
With a pint of bitter
This nervous singer
Sings lines that take me away
Alone in the dark
The times we would dance
To a jukebox left stranded outside the old parade
Those times they don't last
In a torn photograph
Your memory will live on the walls of the old parade