His songs would form a story,
Of two passionate lovers,
Of their passionate love.
Whenever a new movie came out,
Whenever he saw the poster of it on a wall,
He had to see it.
He believed art existed everywhere,
Believed in inspiring others,
And being inspired.
He would tell me to hurry up
Or we would miss the movie
I told him he was being foolish,
He would laugh at that.
In the cold outside the movie theater,
I stood holding the tickets in my hand,
While he bought the popcorn.
He would watch a movie every Saturday night,
And all the while he watched the movie,
His eyes would never leave the screen.
As the movie ended,
He would close his eyes for a minute,
Taking in all he had seen,
Turn towards me and smile,
That’s how I knew he liked the movie.
In his Chevy all the way towards home,
He would talk about his theories,
Talk about ideas about songs he could write on them,
Then he would ask me if I liked the movie,
I tell him I did,
I tell him how I was inspired too.
Whatever I spoke he would listen,
I could see he loved to hear me,
Just the same as I loved to listen to his voice.