Bruce Donnola: Music

• MP3 short clip, hi-fi play (broadband)

We split up in the hills of the southern Catskills In a town with one store and one tavern We had tried everything – silver words, golden ring But our days were a cold, dark cavern. There was no one to blame There’s no villain to name Just the yellowing hours growing colder As she kissed me goodbye she said, “Maybe I’ll try Heading somewhere northwest, Towards Alberta.

I myself headed down to a panhandle town In the west Texas flats I’d forget her ‘neath a blistering sun knowing when day was done In a cold sea of gin I’d feel better. Every night a new flame Every night a new name To forget soon as she’d let me hold her. But as I’d watch her undress, gaze on her nakedness My eyes would drift north Towards Alberta.

Now I hunger and thirst wondering who’ll perish first Whether me or this broken down Rambler. There’s a blizzard ahead and it might stop me dead But it seems I’ve become quite the gambler. If the snow just holds on I’ll hit Cheyenne by dawn Then it’s 500 miles to the border. I’ve a long road to take, I am wide, wide awake And I’m heading north Towards Alberta.