Randy Weeks

Published on June 5th, 2019 | by Randy Weeks

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The View from the Balcony: From the Pen of the Sundown Cowboy, Self-Proclaimed Poet Lariat of The Balcony…

Sorry

Don’t be sorry for being who you are.
Don’t be sorry. We all have our own kinds of scars.
Don’t be sorry if you can’t always be there for me.
Don’t be sorry.
Don’t be sorry.

Don’t tell me you’re sorry; don’t tell me you’re sorry anymore.
I know that you mean it and I know that you are.
But, please, don’t tell me that you’re sorry anymore,
sorry anymore,
sorry anymore.

You’ve never told me anything but truth.
I’ve never scrutinized your words like some kind of sleuth.
I’ve always savored them like a sweet vermouth.
You’ve never told me anything but truth—
anything but truth.

I’m not sorry that I fell in love with you;
I’m just sorry that you don’t feel the same way too—
that you can’t love me in all the ways that I love you.
But you’ve never told me anything but truth—

I want you to be all you want to be
I want you to fly unfettered, wild, and free,
even if it doesn’t, if it doesn’t include me.
I want you to be.
I want you to be.

And it’s me – I’m the one who’s sorry.
I’m sorry for what will never be.
I’m so sorry—sorry as can be.
I’m sorry,
sorry…for me.

The Edge of Cold

I always knew this was coming;
I guess I just pretended not to see,
but it was right there in your eyes this evening
when you gave yourself to me.

Your kiss told me this would be the last time;
I thank you for the kindness shown to me.
I know you never meant to hurt me,
but sometimes that’s the way it has to be.

I know nothing lasts forever.
Seems like that’s the way it always goes.
Like the beer we left on the night stand,
sitting on the edge of cold.

I’ve got precious memories to cling to.
I know I will always hold them dear.
So let’s just lie here in this holy moment—
please make believe you don’t see my tears.

Like a flame that’s burned down to ashes,
like the first night wind on the sea,
like the very last rain of springtime,
like the heart that you once gave to me,

I know nothing lasts forever.
Seems like that’s the way it always goes.
Like the beer we left on the night stand,
sitting on the edge of cold.
Like the beer we left on the night stand,
sitting on the edge of cold.

Unwanted

Fatherless baby, you made it through childhood—
orphaned and homeless when you were fourteen,
arrested for stealin’ some farm woman’s butter.
You were just hungry and lonely and lean.

No ties to bind you so you took to wand’rin’.
Came under the spell of a horse thief named “John”.
He showed you how you could make you a livin’,
but, boy, it ain’t livin’ when you’re on the run.

Stealin’ an’ rustlin’ soon led to a killin’
and killin’ just led to more killin’, don’cha know.
William was captured and William escaped them—
always upon the wrong side of the law.

He tried to give up, but a bounty was on him—
five-hundred dollars—dead or alive.
Pat Garrett poured hot lead inside of young William
and poor William Bonney just lay down and died.

Nobody wanted you—young William Bonney.
You longed to be cared for, but nobody did.
Nobody wanted you—young William Bonney.
But everyone wants you now: Billy the Kid.
Yes, everyone wants you now: Billy the Kid.

Lonely Much Too Long

I been lonely much too long.
Been singin’ those ole sad songs
‘bout someone what done me wrong.
Lonely much too long, y’all.
Lonely much too long.

Adam fell in love with Eve,
but there was somethin’ up her sleeve.
‘Fore too long they had to leave.
I’d say the Lord was peeved,
oh yes, I do believe.

Antony and Cleopat
lived in an Egyptian flat
‘till one day they had a spat.
“Get out!” said Cleopat.
“Get outta my ziggurat!”

The Hunchback of ole Notre Dame—
Quasimode was his name—
His gal said, “Stop! I got a migraine!”
But he was deaf as a train.
Now Esmerelda’s lame.

Jack and Jill went up the hill.’
Jackie – he got fresh with Jill.
Then he took a little spill.
She knocked him down the hill –
Jill had done got her fill.

Sally took me for a ride.
Broke my heart so I just cried.
Hurt me so I almost died.
I’m all torn up inside.
Oh, ride, Sally, ride!

I been lonely much too long.
Been singin’ those ole sad songs
‘bout someone what done me wrong.
Lonely much too long, y’all.
Lonely much too long.

…and that’s the view from The Balcony.

The View from the Balcony: Perspective
The View from the Balcony: Mother's Day Miracle

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