You look more beautiful now than you ever did
Age could never touch you or your voice
God who controls time would never let it
That’s what happens when you love
When you refuse to let go
Of Him
No one says now,
“Bob looks great”
He just withered up and died
And his voice is scratchy because
Love was not there to water it
There are so few of us
Who ever really truly love
Who ever give up the self
Who ever put our hearts on display
And let the world laugh at us
But I love it, JB, when on those Toronto nights
You’re able to laugh at it, too
Because I know when you’re offstage
Those tears you choke back while you sing
Will flow like the Hudson
And you will stay young with Love
How many diamonds for your voice?
A thousand people may tell those like us
Move on and do not look back
There are others who might want our love
But when we were children
Nothing made us happier in December
Than to see Christmas lights
And smell the tree every night before rest
In anticipation of getting what our hearts desired
Maybe it was new bicycle
Or a dollhouse
Or a guitar to sing songs of heartbreak like you do
And when we got those gifts what we really got was Love
The Love our parents gave when they created us
The same Love that pains the wholehearted so often
A Love so often unfelt
The Love I see pains you even 40 years later
When I see you sing about him
I think that all of us do find true love at some point
But the opportunity is a small window we must jump through
In a hallway with walls made of glass…
If we don’t see that window we just keep walking through life
And there are other windows, so many other windows
But they don’t open up to the gorgeous view of that one window…
That glimpse of God’s paradise on Earth for us
The feeling of wrapped arms around you in bed
Like wrapped gifts under the Christmas tree
Waiting to be opened
But they can’t be
As I watch you walk through the hallway
Looking through other windows, holding our matches
Lost
As I sit and wait in the cold on the other side
Waiting for you
You who holds the diamonds
Waiting for you
Dreading that phone call
With my heart attached on the other side
That vague 1AM nostalgic call
That you’ll never admit to
That phone call from a booth in the Midwest
I guess for us, now, JB
Christmas never comes
So we just go on tour and take out our old guitars
And sing songs from 40 years ago
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