The Truth

At a songwriter Open Mic event a couple years back, a darling gal introduced a very sweet love song by explaining: "I wrote this before my divorce - back when I believed in this sort of thing." She shrugged and added: "I guess we all believed it."

It got me thinking about how perspective changes over time and how songwriters evolve.

What happens to the sweet love songs when we can't sing them with conviction?

When a harsh reality clashes with our cherished ideals?

When The Truth refuses to rhyme?



The Truth
words and music © Erin Coombs Friedman

Starry-eyed harmony
Love songs like they were meant to be
Poured forth with honesty
In a voice that speaks The Truth

When The Truth refuses to rhyme
A clear blue sky rains down a bitter wine
Roses die - wither on the vine
And the music stops -- on a dime


Stars collide then explode
Truth arrives in a mislaid note
Strikes like a lightning bolt
When she unfolds The Truth

When The Truth refuses to rhyme
A clear blue sky rains down a bitter wine
Roses die - wither on the vine
And the music stops -- on a dime

Melodies, memories
Altered by reality
Silence echoes endlessly
Now that she can see The Truth

When The Truth refuses to rhyme
A clear blue sky rains down a bitter wine
Roses die - wither on the vine
And the music stops -- on a dime