Gentle Waves Partner In Crime
It happened in the summer, not so very long ago.
It was so warm and humid Elsie would go down to the old wood and pray for
the wind to come.
She had a friend who swore you could evoke the angels simply by prayer.
She said "There are angels for every desire but you must believe, you have
to believe."
So by the time the sun was buried along with the stale air a plan had
formed very clearly in her mind.
She was a lonely girl of around twenty or so, and as she knelt down to pray
in the old wood under the town, her heart would beg and plead:
I desire a partner in crime
I've grown tired of endless crying
I desire a partner in crime
I've grown tired of endless crying
Crying for nothing
And the roses hung their weary heads like people do when they are heavy
and without hope. The seasons passed January, February under the trees
and there were tulips amongst the firs. Elsie was twenty-three twenty-four
twenty-five and the underpass was dark and dense with light at the seams
where the trees were broken and the branches were reaching out for they
had witnessed her prayers, and there was promise in the wind, a promise
of better things.
I desire a partner in crime
I've grown tired of endless crying
I desire a partner in crime
I've grown tired of endless crying
Crying for nothing
The years flowed on and on like the wine that celebrated marriages of
friends and sisters. Elsie began to think that even if her wish
materialized she could not sacrifice a life that was so familiar: Lonely,
sad with an almost religious quality.
She remembered times spent in the old wood deep in prayer. Aching,
begging - thinking her heart might burst. Her friend had moved away
unannounced. She'd disappeared. There was no belief. And longer and
longer there was less to give. Less love to give. Of course there'd been
lovers but nothing close to what she'd hoped for. Before she'd felt electricity
swelling in her palms - but not now. Limp and hopeless life continued but
it wasn't really living. All she'd ever dreamed wished and yearned for had
been stolen and shot down:
And the sky it echoed a warning
And eternity was calling
And the sky it echoed a warning
And eternity was calling
Calling for nothing
