A cigarette glows
reflected in the truck windshield
careening through the city night
These headlight beams
fruitlessly searching
for something gone
The Grand Rapids highways
never take me where I want to be
not even close

I drink awhile at Anchor bar
a quarter spinning on the table
thoughts go round, keep coming back
'til my skull's swimming too
Two more beers
heads they’re mine
tails, my brother’s
I drink them both

When I get back
the apartment door’s wide open
nothing’s gone
Figure I didn’t close it
The room still filled with endless gray
the bitter hue of sadness
TV on mute
and I’m thinking back 

Two boys, splashing through tide pools
two kids, picking up stones 
skimming them into the waves
laughing, like it was all that mattered
And now I’m clutching the payphone
trying to call, I keep on dialing
These numbers don’t go anywhere
not even close

My brother’s gone and his family
won’t pick up the phone to me
All I’ve got is this pack of beer
and the peaceful sight
of the midnight railroad lights 
And memories thinned to dreams
of two boys
splashing through tide pools
scenes from another time

That life's a stranger now
drinking doesn’t bring it back
Tide pools, replenish with the ocean
Memories won't refill
no, drinking doesn’t help
not even close…