I like Webb, what can I say more, the thought of him dead was killing me, had to put my emotions in writing. (I'll take any excuse to write).
Usual disclaimers apply.
Raining in Baltimore
I'm driving in my car with my radio on. I'm not really listening to it but now and then I catch a phrase. The sun is going down. It gives the sky beautiful colors and usually I have to smile looking at a site like that. But not this time. This time all I can do is remember you and feel sad. Really sad. Why you? You are.. were, a senior agent. You shouldn't have gone after the stupid conductor yourself. You should hear the gossip around the Agency, nobody understands why you went. I don't understand. There's even rumor that the Director had a fight with the board, over the fact that you lost your life. You, instead of someone more expendable, if that ever exists.
/ The circus is falling down on it's knees,
the big top is crumbling down./
And in America? I mean everybody would've understood if you got killed in Iran or something. You were meant to be a hero. Saving someone's life and loosing yours in the process. Or blowing up a factory of nerve gas and burn along with it. But dying on a ship in Baltimore over a piece of technology? No, you deserved better, if that at all.
/ It's raining in Baltimore fifty miles east,
where you should be no one's around./
And the worst part is nobody talks out loud. Tells what happened exactly. I asked around, checked your mission files. But your files are closed, like it always goes.
/ And I get no answers,
and I get no change./
Everybody just goes on like nothing happened. Like you never really existed. There won't be a ceremony for you, not even a small one. In a weird sense of way I understand, they can't acknowledge you to the outside world. Even though everybody knows you are.. were CIA. Acknowledging you could endanger others. But somehow I guess I expected the world to stop turning when you lose someone close. Close in the way you were.
/ It's raining in Baltimore, baby
but everything else is the same./
It's going to be lonely without you, you always made me laugh when things got bad. You were always supporting me, pushing my limits. I'll never forget our time together. Or your smile. I know the risks, so did you, and I wouldn't have want things to go any different...except you dying.
/ There's things I remember and things I forget.
I miss you I guess that I should,
but what would you change if you could/
This is ridiculous. Someone wake me up out of this nightmare, please. This just can't be true. Clay come and tell me you're alive..
/ I need a phone call.
I need a raincoat./
Clay?
The End
Excerpt from "Raining in Baltimore" by the Counting Crows.