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It's Touching Moments Like This That Remind Me Why We Don't Speak Much

from You Gave it Your Best​.​.​. Unfortunately That's Not Saying Much by The Sad Bastard Book Club

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Shut your eyes he said
This isn't real this is only a dream
Shut your eyes he said
This isn't real you are only sleeping

The young boy's father took him aside
He said, "If hopes are like birds then our flock just died.
I know the last few years have been rough.
I've been doing the best to keep us going, but I know that's not enough."
In his once strong grip he took his son's small hand.
"But things will soon be different and I hope you'll understand."
He knelt down beside the boy and the boy saw his tears
He saw a broken and frightened man trying to bury all his fears.

"I am truly sorry my son.
It wasn't meant to be like this, but this is what's become.
I am truly sorry my son.
Someday the worst will be over. Until then pretend it's done."

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The Sad Bastard Book Club San Francisco, California

Four people in a tiny San Francisco room playing overly loud doomy folk music (post-americana?) singing songs about the fibrodysplasia of the green world, animal rebellion, and the hope that maybe, just maybe, if we don't destroy everything first you might have the chance to pet a wolf before it tears your throat out in a vengeance killing. ... more

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