Story 2

Godsmack is how the wind feels
 On the face of Mike Winfield
 On his way home from the bar where he works nights
 The worst nights
 Don't nobody tip right
 And between the marriage offers and the fist fights
 And if another motherfucker touch his wrist trying to pull him in to whisper
 He ain't making it to midnight
 Don't they know he got a lighter in his pocket
 A matchbook in his sock
 And a block full of charred skeletons
 Closeted begging to get out?
 He paused cause he's scared of airing out the thoughts
 He can taste it in his mouth, the sulfur and bitter carbon
 Hearing all the burning bodies shout
 But no, that was a full lifetime ago
 And nobody ever has to know
 He has never told, well, except Ronald
 But that don't count, he was sweet and exactly
 What he needed him to be at the time
 Wine and candlelight and nice texts at lunchtime
 Why had he not called Ron back?
 Guess there just wasn't a spark, ha!
 No, no, mustn't joke about these things
 Wouldn't want to disappoint Doc Clark
 So many hours on the couch
 So many buried memories that take
 So many tears to get them out
 Water hadn't never been a friend, hold up
 Where had he seen that car before?
 Blue Acura, dent on the left rear fender
 Back again the sense of
 Déjà vu, strange things you
 Never shake when you wake up in recovery
 But suddenly noticing ash is covering his head
 'Cause it's raining from the sky
 Dials home on his cell phone and gets no reply
 What the fuck?
 Where is the babysitter that he overpays?
 Body takes over and brain becomes disengaged
 Michael is running, his house is three blocks away
 Adrenaline compensating for change in age
 Since the last that he ran it, God dammit
 Mike knows he gotta get home fast as he can
 Looks up in the sky, glow's familiar
 Knows those families, died with similar
 Awnings and on and on, he keeps going
 Hits the corner just as he hears the explosion
 Screams comes from the house, "Did you get them out?"
 Mike asking the crowd that gathered round
 Tears running down his face
 There's that familiar taste
 He wishes it would take him to another place
 Son and his baby girl in his home
 And he can't believe that it's gone in a cloud of smoke
 And he's choking and running forward
 And hoping against hope that he might find them alive and well
 But he knows the results too well
 And he knows that fooled himself
 And he keeps walking toward the house, rather what house is still left
 No intention of stopping, letting the smoke take his breath
 Some strong arm rocks him aside, Mike falls to the ground and cries
 "Why won't you just let me die?"
 "Why won't you just let me die?"