Giles
Giles smiled at Priss as he sat next to her on the bed with his guitar.
"No one knows what it's like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes
No one knows what it's like
To be hated
To be fated
To telling only lies
But my dreams
They aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be
I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free
No one knows what it's like
To feel these feelings
Like I do
And I blame you
No one bites back as hard
On their anger
None of my pain and woe
Can show through
But my dreams
They aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be
I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free
When my fist clenches, crack it open
Before I use it and lose my cool
When I smile, tell me some bad news
Before I laugh and act like a fool
If I swallow anything evil
Put your finger down my throat
If I shiver, please give me a blanket
Keep me warm, let me wear your coat
No one knows what it's like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes"
Rupert strummed, humming.
Priss
"That song doth remind me of William," Priss said thoughtfully.
"Poor William. He finds it harder then Angelus ever did."
She smoothed her hands over the bump of her belly, feeling the baby kick lazily.
"Sing for me, love?"
Giles
"Of course, my love," he said, smiling. "Any requests?"
Priss
"Somethng pretty," Priss said.
"Something nice."
Giles
Rupert thought for a moment, and then came up with a song from one of those evangelical Christian cds that Amanda used to play all the time. Some of them were a little annoying, but he liked this one.
"I would take no for an answer,
Just to know I heard you speak,
And I'm wondering why I've never,
Seen the signs they claim they see,
A lotta special revelations,
Meant for everybody but me,
Maybe I don't truly know You,
or maybe I just simply believe...
Cause I can sniff, I can see, and I can
count up pretty high; but these faculties
aren't getting me any closer to the sky,
but my heart of faith keeps poundin' so
I know I'm doin' fine but sometimes findin
you is just like tryin to smell the color nine.
Smell the color nine...
Now I've never felt the presence,
But I know You're always near,
And I've never heard the calling,
But somehow You've led me right here,
So I'm not lookin' for burnin' bushes,
Or some Divine graffiti to appear,
I'm just beggin You for Your wisdom,
And I believe You're puttin' some here...
Cause I can sniff, I can see, and I can
count up pretty high; but these faculties
aren't getting me any closer to the sky,
but my heart of faith keeps poundin' so
I know I'm doin' fine but sometimes findin
you is just like tryin to smell the color nine.
Smell the color nine...
Cause I can sniff, I can see, and I can
count up pretty high; but these faculties
aren't getting me any closer to the sky,
but my heart of faith keeps poundin' so
I know I'm doin' fine but sometimes findin
you is just like tryin to smell the color nine.
Smell the color nine...
Nine's not a color...
and if even if it were you can't smell a color,no
that's my point exactly."
He smiled. Faith was intangible like that, but that's why they called it 'blind faith."
"Would you like another song, my darling?"
Priss
"Mmmhhmmmm..." Priss said drowsily.
"I should...oh, I know I've forgotten something that I should be doing. I hope it wasn't very important..."
Giles
"Don't think, Darling, just rest, I'll sing you to sleep, and we'll worry about it tomorrow," Giles said. He started plucking a deep, slow tune.
"And who by fire, who by water,
Who in the sunshine, who in the night time,
Who by high ordeal, who by common trial,
Who in your merry merry month of may,
Who by very slow decay,
And who shall I say is calling?
And who in her lonely slip, who by barbiturate,
Who in these realms of love, who by something blunt,
And who by avalanche, who by powder,
Who for his greed, who for his hunger,
And who shall I say is calling?
And who by brave assent, who by accident,
Who in solitude, who in this mirror,
Who by his lady’s command, who by his own hand,
Who in mortal chains, who in power,
And who shall I say is calling?" Giles looked over and smiled at his sleeping lover, the mother of his child. It seemed so wrong, at times. Priss appeared to be only about 17, and he was well over forty. When she slept, she looked so innocent, the age that often appeared in her eyes melted away. Rupert leaned over and kissed her forehead before putting away his guitar, and joining her in bed.