[Verse 1 — open, unhurried; fingerpicked acoustic guitar, single fiddle tracing the melody]

Once upon a time I wanted a roaring engine

with red and white stripes

a fast mover

I would roll down the main street

revving my engine at a stoplight

All heads would turn

a fast mover.

[Verse 2 — band enters quietly; low kick drum, pedal steel swelling beneath]

Then one day

My dad finds out

He has a ticking time bomb in his chest

a weakness in the artery.

Within a week, my world is upside down,

finding my mom and brothers playing Scrabble in the ICU.

While my dad fights for his life.

I let my mom win every time,

to lighten her spirits.

(and because she's way better than me)

[Verse 3 — sparse, almost spoken; pedal steel holds a long, aching note]

With a tube in his throat,

and heart exposed,

body cooled down,

we laugh irreverently,

nervously,

but full belly laughs.

We only held hope in our thoughts,

no other choice.

Finally, 8 hours later...

alive....

repaired.

[Instrumental Break — electric guitar and fiddle trade an eight-bar conversation; let it breathe]

[Chorus — full band, driving rhythm, harmonies stacked high]

Thinking back, all I wanted was a fast mover.

Now, for my dad

the only way back....

is through the chasm.

The only way back to our world for him

was through the deep valley.

Being tested by 1,000 challenges.

[Verse 4 — hard and rhythmic; drums punch on the downbeats, bass locked in tight]

Bang...

Restart the heart

stitch by stitch

Thwack

Thwack

Staples in the chest.

Stitch by loving stitch,

pronto.

Rolling down the cavern into the cave

it's dark,

he can't see a thing...

He hears noise.

A subway assault.

He thinks,

"Who is breathing for me?"

Lights flash

drip, drip

He thinks,

"The enemy must have me tied down."

Kick

nothing...

no energy...

sleep.

[Chorus — building; harmonies tighten, electric guitar bends hard on the turnaround]

The only way back is through the chasm

Bang, awake again.

Can't talk.

(Drugs manage the patient

a little of this and you're awake,

a little of that and you're asleep)

Haze, noise.

[Verse 5 — half-time, pressurized; snare ghost notes, pedal steel sliding like a moan]

He thinks,

"Who am I?

Who is he?"

the robot in him responds.

He thinks.

"I must be captured."

Rest, torture, rest.

Hands flail,

he thinks,

"I must escape.

can't talk,

can't warn my buddies.

Marshaling strength,

I have broken my handcuffs"

He thinks

with no thought other than freedom,

jerks the tube from his throat,

FREE,

I can't breathe,

dying,

trapped,

medic!

He thinks,

saved!

oxygen,

saved.

[Verse 6 — relentless, forward-driving; full band locked in, guitar riff repeating like a pulse]

He thinks,

regrouping,

have to escape.

Under fire.

Keep your head down.

Taking fire.

Grenade!

They got me.

captured.

Truth serum.

Can't

Can't fight no more

delirium.

Name, Rank and Serial....

Taking punches.

I'm here,

kind of...

delirium...

I hear fellow prisoners

get out

I tell them

get out...

Resist.

"It's futile

-

unconscious.

[Instrumental Break — fiddle carries a lonesome melody alone; one quiet bar of silence before the band returns]

[Verse 7 — half-time, hushed; just acoustic guitar and low harmony vocal underneath]

I would be driving down main street

all heads turning

a fast mover...

He thinks

"My buddies...

they are saving me.

Carrying me away

THE · TALK · OF · THE · TOWN