You're Still Right And I'm Not Listening
Author: MindgamesLover
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, locations, song lyrics or anything else you recognise. I wish I did though... then I'd be rich.
This is for the music and the true musicians. I would really, really, really, appreciate reviews of any kind, and cookies will be given to all who can offer concrit. Flames will be used to toast s>the people who send them /s> marshmallows. So, here goes -
Jake,
Like a freeze-dried rose, you will never be,
What you were, what you were,
To me, a memory.
Why don't I have anything left? Why couldn't there have been something more than just the painful memory of our friendship? God, it hurts now, and the blues have faded. Faded away... We were brothers! We weren't fucking supposed to be apart. Not like this. Without you the music's died, too. I can hear you, even now, telling me not to let it die, not to leave the music, but without you? I can't, Jake, you know I fucking can't. You're right... you're still right, but I'm not listening.
But if I listen to the dark,
You'll embrace me like a star,
And fill up me.
And fill up me...
Am I going fucking crazy? I keep forgetting you aren't here, won't ever be here again. I keep turning to say something to you, and I'm always surprised when you aren't there...shit, it hurts now. And the blues have faded... But I can still hear you, even now making the same old jokes, trying the same old tricks to get out of paying, the same old things, that you'll never say me again.
If things get real, for me down here,
Promise to take me to before you went away,
If only for a day.
I never thanked you for everything that happened, for saving my ass practically everyday, for putting up with my reckless driving, for always being right beside me, so I never needed anything more. I never thanked you. I never got the chance. I can still hear you, even now, telling me I don't need to and what are brothers for anyway? And you're right. You're right but I'm not listening. Oh, God, it hurts now. I have nothing left, but this. You remember the suit you wore, on our big night? The biggest, and only, honest performance we'd ever done...
If things get real, for me down here,
Promise to take me back to the tune we played,
Before you went away.
The music isn't the fucking same now. Nothing's the same any more. I can't play the blues on my own, and fuck you, you fucking knew that! You knew I couldn't have done anything alone! But, I'm still the one fucking left behind. The one everyone wants to hear still playing the same old songs. I can hear you telling me not to let the blues die, to keep playing as long as the blues are here. I'm not listening, though. The blues aren't the same now, and God, it fucking hurts.
And if I listen to
The sound of white
Sometimes I hear your smile,
And breathe your light
And if I listen to
The sound of white...
Remember when we first formed the band, Jake? And I wanted our suit shirts to be blue, because we were the Blues Brothers? You won, of course, you were right. You're still right, even now, when I hear you telling me the music can't end. You're right, but I'm not fucking listening. There's nothing left anyway. Now, I still have that white shirt... that's all I fucking have, too, and God, it hurts.
You're my mystery
My mystery
You're my mystery
One mystery
I want to think you miss me, too, Jake. But, I don't want to think that you're lonely. Maybe I never really understood anything you did. I sure don't understand why music wasn't a good enough high for you. I was always the little brother... your little brother. I would have followed you anywhere... anywhere else, you know that? Yeah... yeah, you did. You always knew me. But, I'm too fucking scared to go after you now and I can hear you, even now, telling me not to... and God, that hurts.
My silence solidifies
Til that hollow void
Erases you
Erases you
Til I can't feel at all.
It's too fucking empty, Jake. It isn't right. There's no one like you in the world any more. There's no one I can really talk to. No one who really understands like you did. I can't fucking talk to anyone. All those useless shits who never loved you like I did... they stood around and cried. They fucking cried. And they ask why I don't. Crying won't do shit for you now, Jake. And they don't know how much it hurts... Oh, God, Jake, it hurts.
But, if I never feel again
At least this nothingness will end
The painful dreams
Of you and me.
I keep thinking I'll wake up tomorrow and this will all be some sort of awful fucking nightmare. That none of this has happened and I'm just having nightmares because we drank too much and you stole my bed again, so I'm sleeping on the windowsill. But I still know that's not true. And it can't ever be true again. And every time I wake up on that fucking windowsill with a hangover, I still look over at the bed. And you're never fucking there... Why not, Jake? Why can't you just be there? Just fucking once? Oh, God, it hurts. I can hear you, even now, I can hear you telling me that it's not worth it, that I should get on with my life, but I'm not listening. I know you're right, but I'm not listening.
If things get real, for me down here,
Promise to take me to before you went away,
If only for a day.
If things get real, for me down here,
Promise to take me back to the tune we played,
Before you went away.
I want you back, Jake. I fucking need you back, there's no music without you. I tried to ignore it all the other night. I put on an old CD, one of our first and pretended you were sitting right beside me, smiling like I was at how far we'd come. Then, I opened my eyes, just for a second, and the whole room was empty... I don't know why that surprised me, but oh, God it fucking hurt.
And if I listen to
The sound of white
Sometimes I hear your smile,
And breathe your light
And if I listen to
The sound of white...
I can hear you even now, telling me I should get over it and move on. That I don't need you, to be a Blues Brother, that I can do it on my own. But, I'm not still a Blues Brother. I can't be. Whose brother am I now? I can hear you, even now, saying I shouldn't keep that white shirt under my pillow at night... and you're right. You're right because everything's fading, and there's too much fucking white already. I know you're fucking right, but until you fucking come back and tell me straight, I'm not listening.
Elwood.