The roof, Sunday evening

[nadiathesaint]

Nadia had spent the afternoon thinking about what Pippi had said about writing a song about the roof, so, since it still wasn't exactly cold out, she decided to head on up with her guitar and start working on her song, again.

She sat down with her guitar and as she tuned up, looked over the town and around the roof, thinking of all the times she'd been up here, and searching for inspiration.

One thing kept popping into her head:

"No emo on the roof!"

Hmm. She could do something with that. . . .

[ooc: ze roof, she is always open!]

Comments

[walter-n-wires.livejournal.com]

Walter listened quietly. He remembered her singing this song before. He'd been thinking a lot about last year when she left even before he found out that Alfred was leaving.

Glancing over to watch her while he took a drink from the bottle, he had to swallow past the tightness in his throat.

Stupid attachments.

[nadiathesaint]

As if sensing this reaction, Nadia proceeded into something a little bit more upbeat:

Well I'm lost, I'm afraid,
A rope tied down on a leaky boat
On the roof of a car on the road in the dark and it's snowing.
If I'm more, then it means less,
Last call for happiness,
I'm the dress on the back of your knees and your slip is showing.
I'm a float in a summer parade,
Up the street in the town that you were born in,
With a girl at the top wearing tule
And a "Miss Somewhere" sash,
Waving like a queen.

But beauty's just another word
I'm never certain how to spell.
Go tell the nurse to turn the TV back on.
And throw away my misery,
It never meant that much to me,
It never sent a get well card.

And I broke like a bad joke somebody's uncle told
At a wedding reception in 1972
Where a little boy under a table with cake in his hair
Stared at the grownups' feet as they danced and swayed,
And his father laughed and talked on the long ride home,
And his mother laughed and talked on the long ride home,
And he thought about how everyone dies some day,
And when tomorrow gets here, where will yesterday be?
And he fell asleep in his brand new winter coat.

Buy me a shiny new machine
That runs on lies and gasoline
And all those batteries we stole from smoke alarms,
And disassembles my despair,
It never took me anywhere,
It never once bought me a drink.

[walter-n-wires.livejournal.com]

"You have a real talent," Walter said when the last note died. "I like to listen to you sing and play."

[nadiathesaint]

"That band gives me good things to sing." Nadia turned her head to kiss him lightly on the shoulder. "Want another one?"

[walter-n-wires.livejournal.com]

"Yes." He gave her a kiss on the forehead. "Keep singing." He wasn't lying when he said he liked it, but it also took the onus of talking off of him.

[nadiathesaint]

Nadia smiled, and leaned against him as she propped her guitar up again into a better position and started on another song by the same band.

They're tearing up streets again.
They're building a new hotel.
The mayor's out killing kids to keep taxes down.
And me and my anger sit
Folding a paper bird
Letting the curtains turn into beating wings.

Wish I had a socket set
To dismantle this morning.
Just one pair of clean socks and a photo of you.

When you get off work tonight,
Meet me at the construction site
And we'll write some notes to tape to the heavy machines.
Lie we hope they treat you well.
Hope you don't work to hard.
We hope you get to be happy sometimes.

And bring you swiss army knife
And a bottle of something.
And I'll bring some spray paint and a new deck of cards.

Hey, I found the safest place
To keep all our tenderness
Keep all those bad ideas, keep all our hope.
It's here in the smallest bones
The feet and the inner ear,
It's such an enormous thing to walk and to listen.

And I'd like to fall asleep
To the beat of you breathing
In a room near a truck stop on a highway somewhere.

Well you are a radio
You are an open door,
I am faulty string of blue Christmas lights.
You swim through frequencies
You let that stranger in,
While I'm blinking off and on and off again.

And we've got a lot of time,
Or maybe we don't,
But I'd like to think so, so let me pretend.

These are my favorite chords,
I know you like them too.
When I get a new guitar you could have this one.
And sing me a lullaby,
Sing me the alphabet.
Sing me a story I haven't heard yet.

[walter-n-wires.livejournal.com]

Walter was starting to think he shouldn't listen to the lyrics of anything Nadia sang, since she chose them almost too well.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head on her shoulder, wondering if he should trot out the allergies excuse Alfred had used later.

[nadiathesaint]

As the song finished, Nadia let the chords fade into the night and turned her head more towards him. "Hey," she said softly. "Are you okay?"

[walter-n-wires.livejournal.com]

Walter shrugged a little and swiped a hand over his face. "Yeah. I can give myself one night, you know?"

[nadiathesaint]

"You can give yourself whatever time you need, and nothing less."

[walter-n-wires.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, I know." He drew a deep breath and sat up to kiss her. "But it's not going to do me any good to mope tomorrow or the next day." Even if he'd moped more than a night when she'd gone.

[nadiathesaint]

She kissed him back gently, setting her guitar to one side. "Not to mope, but you're allowed to be sad. I know how this stuff works, remember? I'm good at it. Dealing with people leaving."