For Billy Hawes.

Two little girls, hand in hand
Wait in the winter rain
Said their good-byes, then they
Opened their eyes, and they
Stared down a westbound train
I read in the paper they were feeling so bad
About this or the other thing
But all I could think of were the parents back home
Waiting for the phone to ring on the phone
Why do they do the things they do?
Why do they do the things they do?
Billy said, "Take them, I won't need them any more"
Then we laughed at what I thought was a joke
He went down Monday morning to the hardware store
Then they found him at the end of his rope
For a long while after I was walking around
With a terrible case of the blues
I couldn't hear laughter, I could just hear the sound
Of my feet in that dead man's shoes
Why do they do the things they do?
They leave in the morning, leaving no warning
Sometimes they spell it all out
They leave in the evening, no one believing
That this could ever come about
They dwell on the sadness, anticipating
The dream of a dreamless night
They live with the darkness, and for all of their waiting
They never see the morning light
Why do they do they things they do?

Words and Music:
©David Francey (Under Bunker Rd, Ayers Cliff, Quebec, January 23, 1993)