Open all the doors and let you out into the world
Closing time
Turn all of the lights on over every boy and every girl
Closing Time
One last call for alcohol so finish your whiskey or beer
Closing time
You don't have to go home
but you can't stay here
Alone at the bar and almost completely lost in the fog of his myriad of misery-driven thoughts, the irony of the lyrics coming loudly from the surround sound speakers still manages to register, although vaguely. It enters his mind in tandem with the same brain wave carrying the accompanying thought that, oddly enough, completely coincides with the first cognitive thought that crosses his mind in hours. 'Isn't that the truth.'
It is closing time, the bartender's already sounded that call; several times, in fact. Still, he sits, morosely at the bar, his one hand hanging on to his otherwise untouched mug of beer as if his life depended on it, slowly turning it around and around as he relishes the cold firmness under his touch. Staring at his phone, nestled in his other hand, he had to smirk for a brief moment of self-inflicted mockery amidst the muck, that only he... only the geek in him, would stubbornly download an app that even he, at the time he'd done it, thought would probably never get any use; citing just enough of a 'maybe one day' reasoning to do it. Ironically, enough, he admits to himself, that 'one day' had just arrived – but only because he's in no frame of mind for any other alternative.
I know who I want to take me home
I know who I want to take me home
know who I want to take me home
Take me home
Chalking the sliver of humor that just crossed his mind up to mechanics of the app which automatically provides the location of his cell phone to the cab company the app came from; he hits the 'go' button, relishing the realization that that's all there is to it. For some unknown reason, he can't summon the energy or even desire to move beyond this moment that has stretched on before him all night long, even though he knows that like the song says, he can't stay here.
Closing time
Time for you to go out to the places you will be from
Closing time
This room won't be open
till your brothers or your sisters come
From behind the bar, the patient bartender does what he can to appear to keep busy; wiping down the bar for the thousandth time, painstakingly wiping out clean glasses and such; as he watches his downtrodden patron, whom he has no desire to kick while he's already down, by forcing him to leave. It's obvious the guy has no ride; which is why he'd made the call to get him one a moment ago while the poor guy had been lost in thought as he stared at his phone. He hadn't seen him make a call on the damned thing, so the observant proprietor knew a ride was still needed.
So gather up your jackets,
move it to the exits
I hope you have found a friend
He knows he's outstayed his welcome as a patron yet he can't find the mental command to make himself move. His muddled thoughts and serious bout of melancholy goes beyond the rough week at work, with back-to-back gruesome murder cases that were beyond exhausting and difficult.
Maybe it was the troublesome call earlier in the day from the one person who means everything to him; telling him of their plans to move overseas on a permanent basis or maybe it was the equally emotionally difficult call informing him that he was now the only one in his family living on the East Coast, but that everyone in his family knew he'd be okay on his own.
Closing time
Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end, yeah
Maybe it was the troubling realization that along with all these changes being dumped on him, that maybe it was long past time that he made lots of changes in his life now since his status of single and being destined to remain so forever had been so sharply highlighted with all these other changes going on under his nose. He did have the option of possibly courting trouble again, by trying to date again. But that was something he no longer had the stomach for even considering and he wasn't willing to risk his heart again, anyway.
I know who I want to take me home
I know who I want to take me home
I know who I want to take me home
Take me home
Whatever the trigger; this was the result ; the choice to drown his sorrows and losses in the atmosphere of anonymity, alone in a crowded bar where no one would expect anything from him and hopefully no one would judge him. The mood deepened as the night wore on, so much so that he'd never noticed anything of his surroundings; completely overlooking the neatness of the place and the fact that it wasn't your ordinary dump or hole in the wall watering hole. He couldn't even relay, if asked, how it was he'd found this place, the mood had so encumbered him and now it was as if he couldn't shake it.
Closing time
Time for you to go out to the places you will be from
The fact that he's the last remaining patron in a now almost completely darkened bar doesn't even occur to him; neither does the fact that the outstandingly patient and genuinely concerned bartender gave up waiting for him to leave on his own some fifteen minutes ago and instead made a phone call on his behalf.
I know who I want to take me home
I know who I want to take me home
I know who I want to take me home
Take me home
The bartender watches the stubborn man hang on to his dour mood with the tenacity of a bulldog while he silently hopes the call he made will be able to help the troubled soul and with more than just a ride home. The person he placed the call to will not be happy to see this man in this state; but was the only one he knew of that would genuinely look after him.
I know who I want to take me home
I know who I want to take me home
I know who I want to take me home
Take me home
Almost as if physically sucked from the vacuum's grip in a way he had no control over, the patron suddenly sits straighter, works to clear his vision, though he doesn't look away from it even as he finally releases his death grip on the glass, actually dropping his hands into his lap for the first time all night. Oddly enough, he still cradles his phone in his other hand
Closing time
Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end
Across the room, the newcomer makes his way down the bar, nodding in silent thanks and understanding to the bone weary bartender who's been ready to go home for well over an hour now. Almost absently, the newcomer glances at the nearest speaker playing the oldies tune that brings a trace of nostalgia to his heart.
Closing time
Open all the doors and let you out into the world
Closing time
Turn all of the lights on over every boy and every girl
Closing time
One last call for alcohol so finish your whiskey or beer
Closing time
You don't have to go home
but you can't stay here
The newcomer remembered feeling that way once, though he realized that now he didn't have a clue what was going on with the young man. What he did know is that this, the bar, the drinking, the getting lost in time and place in a place where no one who knew him would think to look for him, wasn't who this man really was on the inside. Although he admittedly didn't know very much about him on this personal of a level, not near as much as he should, he did know with absolute certainty this troubled soul before him, surely needed someone he knew to care.
I know who I want to take me home
I know who I want to take me home
know who I want to take me home
Take me home
Across the room, another smirk crosses the patron's features, this time it of its own accord as the newcomer reaches him; apparently, judging by the expression on his face, under the impression that he's drunk and in need of a ride home. The smirk isn't at the newcomer's expense, but, rather at the thought of being drunk. Yeah, right, like he'd ever be lucky enough to indulge in that state.
Closing time
Time for you to go out to the places you will be from
Closing time
This room won't be open
till your brothers or your sisters come
He knew there was a laundry list of descriptive words that would fit him right about now; not the least of which would have to be gullible, pushover and lonely. Wait, how'd that word get there? No matter. It certainly belongs there. The one word that does not, however, is drunk. Having mentally reminded himself of such, he abandons his seat, since the newcomer's remained standing still, obviously waiting for some kind of response from him. Yup, the rare indulgence of wading through his vault of emotions is once again forestalled. It all needs to be locked away again. Back to the real world now.
Offering the long-suffering bartender a fleeting look of both apology and gratitude, he leads the way to the door; silence a sudden yet not entirely unexpected third party among them now that the bartender has turned off the music. Somehow the lyrics are still going in his head, as if the music was still playing.
So gather up your jackets,
move it to the exits
I hope you have found a friend
Outside, he approaches the newly arrived yellow cab, and pauses at the back passenger door, his hand holding the door handle tightly. He looks back at the gray-haired newcomer whose cobalt orbs actually seem to be expressing concern. Offering a half-hearted small smile of appreciation for the effort and attempt that was made here tonight on his behalf, he looks at the newcomer directly for the first time, albeit briefly before he turns away to climb into his ride home.
With the lyrics of the song he's heard half a dozen times tonight, still playing in his head, he has to agree, it is closing time. Only in his case, it applies to this moment in life; his life and the one word that belongs on the top of that laundry list that describes his life; will always belong there he supposed – is 'alone'.
...Closing time
You don't have to go home
but you can't stay here
~FINIS~