you’re in a story I heard somebody told

Tom Waits – Hang Down Your Head
from Rain Dogs (1985) /scarred ballad/

Hush a wild violet, hush a band of gold
Hush you’re in a story I heard somebody told
Tear the promise from my heart, tear my heart today
You have found another, oh baby I must go away
So hang down your head for sorrow, hang down your head for me
Hang down your head tomorrow, hang down your head, Marie

A pane is fixed to a faded wooden wall. It’s flecked with dry road dust and spattered by the rain. An uneasy crack begins to snake faintly up from the chip-paint frame. Dirt and water harden to a veil of smudged white mud, distorting the darkened interior. A stray pebble and shards of glass chime delicately as the stale and fresh airs throw themselves at one another; a jagged exclamation the only thing left clinging to the chip-paint frame. Dust and rain remain and come anew. A bright eyed young boy’s leg snags on the last slice of glass and the red mark glistens against the veil of white mud in the heat of the noonday sun. The chip-paint frame darkens and weathers with age, recoiling from its lone toothy tennant. Dust and Rain. In the end it takes just the lightest of breezes to catch the corner of the window’s last triangle of glass and push it over the edge. It falls inside, behind the light. But it cannot find the ground.