It was "Girl From The North Country"

Looking back, I wonder if what I heard what was real,
Because the second her mouth opened, my ears started ringing.

We gathered in awe to hear my angel singing,
and she became my broken crystal ball.

I could hear the night when the rain would softly fall—
Can you hear the future, my loving friend?

Let’s hope these visions will explode, or possibly end.
My throat, it burned, when I choked on her words

That she, too, was choking on. Did you notice the birds?
They were waiting outside her window, to keep her company.

I wish I could have done the same— instead I felt this agony,
between you and me, between give and take.

Her sniffs and cries keep me awake
when all I can do is sit on my hands and speak my silence.

Tonight in my room, there’s quiet violence.
It’s been quiet for what feels like years.

It’s only been one since I’ve been living in her world full of mirrors,
Where people stop every few feet just to cover their eyes.

If you fall in love with the voice of an angel, it won't be a surprise.
Her notes could break down walls, and she smells like the sea.

On a raining, dark blue night, she leaned into me:
“Love,” she whispered, “what will be the song

That you’ll play after I’ve been gone for too long?
And when you’ll sing to the sky, what tune

Will be the one heard only by the moon,
As I’m waking up so far away, blinded by the sun?

Don’t think too hard, and don’t let your love run.”
My pillows are covered in hair, and I don’t know which is sadder.

The song I haven’t yet heard, or the question that doesn’t matter.
So before that smile drives me insane,

I’ll shy away from all that rain.

-April 22, 2009