Lyrics

FOREIGN MONEY
Words by Benjamin Wood (c) 2008
Music by Arbiter Deputy


Emily, I can't help but picture your bedroom
in the ghost-pale light of a rainy January afternoon
where your shoes lie gathered
in the jamb of the door
and three candles burn
on the damp windowsill
by the library books
you never return

There's a French song on the record player fuzzing like a wasp
and a half-drunk glass of red wine breathes on the table-top
and there's foreign money
in a whiskey jar
and clothes on the floor
and the walls are heavy
with silverfish
and maps of Montreal

Emily, I'll always remember the walk home
over the bridge passing by the jury of mountains
with foreign money
folded in my coat
and your four-beer glow
at that intersection
near the bookstore glass
where you turned to go
and the foreign money
that I never spent
and cannot let go