Be reasonable, mister, be honest, be fair

Tenderness 🖤

Don't even hear the murmur of a prayer

If you go when the snowflakes fall

When the rivers freeze and summer ends

Please see for me if she's wearing a coat, so warm

To keep her from the howling winds.

My weariness amazes me, I’m branded on my feet

I have no one to meet

And the ancient empty street’s too dead for dreaming.

Tambourine boy, take me far away.

Well, I wanna be your lover, baby

I don't wanna be your boss.

Don't say I never warned you

He rested his hands for a moment on the edge of the wooden table and let out a long sigh that he felt across his entire body. The final note of the tour still echoed deep within his ears, yet the silence of the room gradually took hold. His old bones, battered by endless miles and tour buses, were screaming for a respite.

He focused on glasses of wine, silence, and TV series marathons. At his age, a soft tracksuit and solitude were an almost heavenly gift.

With slow, deliberate movements, he opened his suitcase on the bed. He packed his things almost by rote: a couple of worn, soft black t-shirts, the harmonica that had been sounding best lately, and boots caked in dried mud from the last garden where it had rained.

Those damned objects weighed much more now than when the tour began. But he always thought that on the last day.

He zipped the bag shut with a sigh. He gazed out the window at the quiet night and smiled to himself with a touch of melancholy. The tour was over. Tomorrow, he would head home, where autumn awaited him with a roaring fire.

“I’m only going as far as town,” I said. “Of course.” “And I’m coming back.” “Probably.” “You are a smug bastard.”