The Most Evil Song

A couple's song is a relic of a life shared together

Collin had reached the point he was trying to remember while sitting at the bar alone. And when he looked up for another drink, Collin couldn’t help but realize everyone in the bar was having more fun than he was having. And this didn’t bother him but it was sort of foreboding somehow as if this was a reflection of his life; as if everyone was always having more fun than him.

                He ordered another drink; a double this time. Looking around there were couples holding on to each other, friends laughing, men shaking hands. And the song, the woeful song Wild Horses began playing. The bartender handed Collin his drink.

                “I hate this song,” Collin said, grabbing his drink.

                “What?” The bartender asked.

                “I hate this song, just hate it,” he took a large drink.

                “Why’s that?”

                “It’s the devil of all songs.” The bartender nodded and gave a little tap to the bar before turning around and walking away. Collin looked over at a young, young couple smiling and talking to each other, quietly.

                “You guys like this song?” Collin asked, turning his stool in their direction. The couple looked at each other and then the young male answered with a small man’s voice.

                “Sure. The Rolling Stones are great.”

                “Damn it, why did I even ask you? You wouldn’t know good music if it punched you in the face.” Collin said and he turned away. Everyone, they would always like that song. All over, even the young ones do. Collin began talking again but this time to no one and everyone in particular.

                “Music, that’s the problem. What it used to represent, what it actually was. People may say I’m crazy but they are crazy. They can’t see it. They can’t see me. They can’t see anything but clothes. That’s all they know, is what suits look like; who a suit is. But they don’t look in my eyes. They don’t know what the wheels even look like anymore. They just want what they think they should want… But Wild Horses. Wild Horses; he lied to us in that song. And she lied too…” He took another drink and Collin felt his brilliant mind sway a little as if in a hammock. “What kind of stupid song writer would write a song like that?” He asked to himself and dropped a large bill on the table. The bartender emerged and Collin flatly added, “Use the change for some better music.” The bartender nodded and gave another tap on the bar and walked away. The tapping? What was that, Collin wondered. Some way of reinsuring he was drunk, someway of f*****g with him? He wasn’t sure. He grabbed his coat and brief case and scooted out of the well-populated bar.

                As he walked on the street towards his penthouse which was just down a way, he couldn’t stop the words from slipping through his lips and they used a voice that was not his.

                “I know I have dreamed you a sin and a lie. I have my freedom and I don’t have much time. Faith has been broken tears must be cried. Let’s do some living after we die. Wild horses couldn’t drag me away. Wild wild horses, we’ll ride them someday.”