At Jeremy's Poem by Amanda Larsen

Saturday night at Jeremy's
The pub under the normal life
The wooden doors familiar sound
Your eyes adjust to twilight

Oh Jeremy with beady eyes
The poor-life lines carved on his face
Bad habits have dissolved his teeth
Bad fate could never take his smile

The smoky air that never clears
The music never silences

The sounds from Tom the jazzman
His drunken lyrics speak of truth
Of times of blooming youth
Of ladies o so keen
Against the rotten wood he leans
His fingers stroke the chords so gently
He almost sleeps it seems
In Tom's eye there's a steady tear
For all his broken dreams

You light another cigarette
Inhale the bitter smoke of age
You think about the possibilities
you lost
You curse your dooming fate
And then you think it's not so bad
As Tom starts playing an ol' blue
You like the nights at Jeremy's
They bring some peace inside of you

A shadow in the corner
A man that never shows his eyes
Nobody knows his name or story
No one cares to ask
He always orders Jin on ice
He never speaks a word
If it's a heavy weight he drags
Nobody would have heard

Now Jimmy is getting drunk again
He cries over his one mistake
He killed a man when he was young
He never will forsake
He seeks forgiveness in his glass
He seeks for ways he can forget
Ways to escape his haunting past
His bottle is a friendly threat
He won't forgive himself at last

A stranger walks in, leather boots
He greets and orders something strange
He sits for hours on his chair
Just listening to Tom's complains
He picks a flute out of his pocket
Plays along to bitter tunes
His eyes reflect a soul of flames
He says his name is James

Saturday night at Jeremy's
Te pub under the normal life
The place for parasites to hide
For poor men giving up the fight
The place where burdens can be
For a second put down
Where the tired can lean
‘gainst familiar sounds
Those, who sadness, have seen
Bury tears in the ground
Sing for ev'ry lost dream
Sing and buy one more round