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lyrics

There's an old silver maple under which we say we met
But that's just what we tell other people 'cause we both forget
It could have been down in the alley where the cold wind never ceases
Or the street where sunlight disappears each time a smokestack wheezes
And it could have been another town, but all we'd known was this
Where family buries family with no time to mourn or miss
Where you know what something's worth by how quickly you let it go
'Cause boys can live in daydreams; only men live in Monroe

Forgiveness is a virtue that I never did possess
I don't care who did it first or last if I did it the best
So even when I saw her standing 'neath that silver maple tree
I was prepared to make the boys around her settle up with me
Now whatever distance separates me from her open door
Equals the gap between what's worth having and what's worth waiting for
So when or why or how I have to leave she never needs to know
The prison walls will rise around you if you stick around Monroe

Did the family of the freed thief think to thank the angry mob?
Or did they live in fear a crowd would come to finish up the job?
Sometimes the price of starting over is another failure's death
There are regrets that neither pen nor tongue sufficiently express
But if words don't work the way we need, then neither can they warn
If my silence is a sign of love but hers a sign of scorn
Good faith is open to suspicion, and suspicion only grows
Until there's so much, you can taste it in the water in Monroe

I felt the frequent panic of my answers unbelieved
'Til I began to ask the questions and began to feel deceived
When I left, imagined enemies were grabbing at my heels
Now the longer that I stay away, the more that they seem real
When I saw her last, she said "so long" like silence was a waste
And I wondered what I'd given her that couldn't be replaced
The sun had risen just enough to see how dark it was
Her body didn't feel familiar then; now nothing ever does
And every stranger I've seen since seems to be speaking hieroglyphs
I can't get over what she was just getting over with
I've heard tell that she's in Terre Haute or down in Mexico
But she knows I'll never go back, so she'll never leave Monroe

credits

from You Won't Even Know I'm Gone, released November 18, 2016
Ian Fitzgerald - acoustic guitar, vocal
Jesse Hanson - cello, violin
Amato Zinno - upright bass

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Ian Fitzgerald Providence, Rhode Island

Though perhaps technically a singer-songwriter, Ian Fitzgerald prefers the term 'folk singer,' as it more accurately describes the tradition in which his music is rooted. From early twentieth century field recordings through Hank Williams, Bob Dylan, Gillian Welch, and hundreds of artists in between, Ian has been influenced by one of the sturdiest strains of American music. ... more

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