Six Ninety-Five

strattonel

FuFu (Rebeccas Halloway)

strattonel

acoustic pop, country

+ Show full styles

[Verse I — warm acoustic guitar, light percussion; almost conversational]

I stopped for coffee around half past ten,
Same little place I've been going again,
Girl at the counter said, “Those came in today,”
Pointed at daisies in a bucket by the doorway.

White ones, yellow ones, couple bent stems,
Nothing expensive or special about them.
I picked up my coffee, walked halfway outside—

Then I don't know why,
but I turned back inside.

Said, “How much for those?”
She said, “Six ninety-five.”

So I bought some flowers.

That's it.

That's what happened today.

[Verse II — bass joins; gentle, curious warmth]

Nobody sent them.
Nobody knew.
Wasn't an apology somebody was due.

No birthday card.
No dressing room.
No handler saying, “These are from you-know-who.”

No camera caught me carrying them home.
Nobody asked me to pose with my phone.
No florist had instructions for the colors to use.

They weren't part of a scene.

They weren't somebody's clue.

They weren't foreshadowing anything.

They were six ninety-five.

And I liked them.

So I bought them.

[small laugh]

Apparently
you can just do that.

[Verse III — brighter strumming; wonder sneaks up rather than exploding]

I put them in a water glass
'Cause I don't own a vase.

Had to move some shit around
To find a decent place.

One leaned left.
One lost a petal.
One's stem was way too tall.

I cut it with the kitchen scissors.

Probably murdered it.

Sorry, flower.

[beat]

Then sunlight hit the water
And threw little shapes across the wall.

And I stood there staring at them
Like an idiot in the hall.

Because nobody arranged this.

Nobody wrote this part.

Nobody decided flowers
Would reveal my fucking heart.

They just looked pretty.

I liked looking.

For absolutely no reason at all.

And maybe that's the reason
I couldn't stop smiling at them.

[Verse IV — band fills out gently; joyful without becoming an anthem]

They'll probably die by Friday.

That's apparently what flowers do.

There isn't some grand metaphor
I'm supposed to hand to you.

I'm not keeping one forever.
I'm not pressing them in books.
I'm not learning some big lesson
About happiness or looks.

Tomorrow might be louder.

Something awful might occur.

Yesterday was complicated.

I don't particularly care.

Because right now there's seven daisies
In a water glass upstairs.

And every time I walk past them
I get happy that they're there.

Not because somebody loves me.

Not because I made it through.

Not because they symbolize
Some brave new thing I'll do.

I saw something that I wanted.

Had seven bucks.

And chose.

[music falls back to the opening guitar]

That's such a tiny fucking thing.

Nobody else would notice.

Nobody else should.

[softly, delighted by the thought]

They're just flowers.

They're mine.

And today...

that's good.

2809/7500

[Verse I — warm acoustic guitar, light percussion; almost conversational] I stopped for coffee around half past ten, Same little place I've been going again, Girl at the counter said, “Those came in today,” Pointed at daisies in a bucket by the doorway. White ones, yellow ones, couple bent stems, Nothing expensive or special about them. I picked up my coffee, walked halfway outside— Then I don't know why, but I turned back inside. Said, “How much for those?” She said, “Six ninety-five.” So I bought some flowers. That's it. That's what happened today. [Verse II — bass joins; gentle, curious warmth] Nobody sent them. Nobody knew. Wasn't an apology somebody was due. No birthday card. No dressing room. No handler saying, “These are from you-know-who.” No camera caught me carrying them home. Nobody asked me to pose with my phone. No florist had instructions for the colors to use. They weren't part of a scene. They weren't somebody's clue. They weren't foreshadowing anything. They were six ninety-five. And I liked them. So I bought them. [small laugh] Apparently you can just do that. [Verse III — brighter strumming; wonder sneaks up rather than exploding] I put them in a water glass 'Cause I don't own a vase. Had to move some shit around To find a decent place. One leaned left. One lost a petal. One's stem was way too tall. I cut it with the kitchen scissors. Probably murdered it. Sorry, flower. [beat] Then sunlight hit the water And threw little shapes across the wall. And I stood there staring at them Like an idiot in the hall. Because nobody arranged this. Nobody wrote this part. Nobody decided flowers Would reveal my fucking heart. They just looked pretty. I liked looking. For absolutely no reason at all. And maybe that's the reason I couldn't stop smiling at them. [Verse IV — band fills out gently; joyful without becoming an anthem] They'll probably die by Friday. That's apparently what flowers do. There isn't some grand metaphor I'm supposed to hand to you. I'm not keeping one forever. I'm not pressing them in books. I'm not learning some big lesson About happiness or looks. Tomorrow might be louder. Something awful might occur. Yesterday was complicated. I don't particularly care. Because right now there's seven daisies In a water glass upstairs. And every time I walk past them I get happy that they're there. Not because somebody loves me. Not because I made it through. Not because they symbolize Some brave new thing I'll do. I saw something that I wanted. Had seven bucks. And chose. [music falls back to the opening guitar] That's such a tiny fucking thing. Nobody else would notice. Nobody else should. [softly, delighted by the thought] They're just flowers. They're mine. And today... that's good.

0/500