Bruce Donnola: Music

• MP3 short clip, hi-fi play (broadband)

We split up in the hills of the southern Catskills
In a town with one store and one tavern
We had tried everything – silver words, golden ring
But our days were a cold, dark cavern.
There was no one to blame
There’s no villain to name
Just the yellowing hours growing colder
As she kissed me goodbye she said, “Maybe I’ll try
Heading somewhere northwest,
Towards Alberta.

I myself headed down to a panhandle town
In the west Texas flats I’d forget her
‘neath a blistering sun knowing when day was done
In a cold sea of gin I’d feel better.
Every night a new flame
Every night a new name
To forget soon as she’d let me hold her.
But as I’d watch her undress, gaze on her nakedness
My eyes would drift north
Towards Alberta.

Now I hunger and thirst wondering who’ll perish first
Whether me or this broken down Rambler.
There’s a blizzard ahead and it might stop me dead
But it seems I’ve become quite the gambler.
If the snow just holds on
I’ll hit Cheyenne by dawn
Then it’s 500 miles to the border.
I’ve a long road to take, I am wide, wide awake
And I’m heading north
Towards Alberta.