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This song is by Simon Joyner and appears on the album Hotel Lives (2001).

Listen all your lovers and would-be lovers to my tale
The moral of the story is not hidden
Though there are some lies along the way to disguise the details
The broad stroke of this picture shall render its true meaning
I first collided with Geraldine on a Tuesday I believe
It was so very long ago still I remember
She just drifted by my window while I was pretending to be me
Not yet realizing I was already forever changed by seeing her

Into the cafe on the street where the faux French girls fake their slang
While trying to sink their teeth into each other
And all of them so dainty they must fan themselves all day
Claiming the breath of the walking deathly homesick G.I. sufferers

Geraldine sat alone of course nobody knew her name
But I watched her from a field of wallflowers
I can't remember why I ever started hanging around that place
All anybody ever did was dream of dreary California

The second time I saw Geraldine she asked me for a light
She was trying to read a map in a shattered doorway
I asked where she was running to or from or was it who
She asked if I was talking back or moving forward

Soon we were doing everything we could do to fall in love
We tumbled from the trees into the water
For awhile we were as close as the light-bulb and the moth
Bouncing off a wall as it grew hotter and hotter

But one day I was tempted by a fleeting song I heard
Whispered from the mouth of a passing stranger
Who said everything happens for a reason and I deferred
Not yet realizing I was already very much in danger

The walls were yellow and thin and there was no window I could open
And she just laughed into her pillow until she cried
And because it was a loathsome thing I did it once again
With a mirth that was disposable and a lament I couldn't hide

When the stranger disappeared I couldn't stomach my face
What will I do now that I have betrayed Geraldine
I cowered through the market and purchased every angry grape
And made a wine so bitter even the drunkards appeared clean

I woke up on a Sunday and Geraldine was boiling milk
"You've been far away," she said as if convincing me
"I am further still," I said, "than you may really want to know"
She raised a finger to her lips to say I should be listening

"I've been where you stand," she said, "once I was woeful and careless
But I believe everything happens for a reason."
Well there it is again, I thought, and ready to confess
But she said "Only the guilty are ever really innocent."

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