Annie was a barmaid,

everyday surrounded, everyday alone

she lived outside the stories,

but she took the stories home

for twenty years, she'd write the script,

she'd set the stage and wait

today was no exception

Across the room sat an empty man

and a women half his age

Annie saw it in his shoulders, his hands,

She saw it in his face

she saw it in her skin, her hair, her eyes,

saw it in her smile

they seemed a bit uncomfortable

Annie will bring them to her bed and

she'll become the cast

and fill them with her memories,

and take away their past

say the things that should be said,

and do what must be done

and fall into a sleep and wonder

The two may have just met outside

in the parking lot or found

each other in the doorway

as they escaped the sound

of an empty day, an empty night

or more of just the same

They wer holding tight with open arms

Annie will bring them to her bed and

she'll become the cast

and fill them with her memories,

and take away their past

say the things that should be said,

and do what must be done

and fall into a sleep and wonder

The cigarette smoke it burned her eyes

yet she never cried

she listened for a signal

heard the whispers and the sighs

and as the scene grew older

and their shadows turned to one

she knew tonight she'd be going home

And when they left, she cleared away

what little that remained

some bread and wine, an afterthought,

some time and a broken chain

and a penciled note, at least once erased,

that said I have to go

but please won't you stay with me

but please won't you stay with me