The Fall of Troy

I had one of those rare, weird moments on my drive in this morning where a song suddenly reaches out and throttles you, for no apparent reason.

I was listening to "Orphans" on the ride in this morning, the Bawlers disc. "The Fall of Troy" has been a favorite of mine for years, ever since I discovered it on the Dead Man Walking soundtrack. It's a melancholy song of loss and pain. There's just something about it that has always stirred me.

At any rate, as I was alone in the car I was singing along with Tom. I hit the second verse, and all of a sudden I was overcome by a hitching sob and tears sprung into my eyes. I couldn't keep singing. I had to stop for fear of actually breaking down. The song went on, and after it ended the feeling went away. When the song had started, I was feeling slightly groggy. When it ended, I was wide awake and refreshed.

What the fuck?

Over tired? Perhaps. The mention of a young boy named Nick going bad having a different resonance in my life now? Likely. I don't know. I think, for a brief moment there, I connected with the heart of the song. The emotion Tom was attempting to convey. It's kind of the flip side of one of those neck snapping moments. The one where a song makes you sit up straight and pledge allegiance to a particular musician. I've passionately loved Waits for many, many years. But today, he reached out of the speaker and made me feel something. Pretty damn cool.

It's the same with men as with horses and dogs
Nothing wants to die
Evelyn James they killed in a game
With guns too big for their hands
Just off St. Charles in No-Mans Land
And you'll have to find your own way home, boys
You'll have to find your own way home

The oldest was Troy, an eighteen year-old boy
Shot dead in March with a robbery
His brother started out to hell and to ruin
Troy's killer was never caught they say
Young nick he just went bad that day
Now he'll have to find his own way home, boys
He'll have to find his own way home

Why cook dinner?
Why make my bed?
Why come home at all?
Out the door and through the woods
There is a world where nothing grows

It's hard to say grace and to sit in the place
Of someone missing at the table
Mom's hair sprayed tight
And her face in her hands
Watching TV for answers to me
After all she's only human
And she's trying to find her own way home, boys
She's trying to find her own way home

My legs ache
My heart is sore
The well is full of pennies