You never mentioned you were getting married.
It might have been nice to know.
It might have been nice
to get an invitation to your wedding.
It would have been hell of a show to watch
you go from all alone to part of “man and wife.”
The forecast called for rain.
Today began the rest of your life,
but to me it's only Saturday.
Would I be such a dark spot on your brightest day?
We left the past the past, but you held it against me anyway.
Or maybe I'm wrong; you just long forgot me.
Now all those heart-to-hearts drunk in parking lots are so
meaningless and disconnected.
I wish you both the best, but I'm done.
Enjoy your honeymoon 'cross the Atlantic.
In Paris, you'll kiss the ground.
In Paris, you'll kiss
the love of your life in completed transit.
Take in the Eiffel Tower. Paint the town red.
A window opened and a door closed
on the Champs-Elysees.
Seven days from now, you'll come home...
to me that's just a Saturday.
Whether in sickness or in health,
I pray you both keep well...
I pray you both keep well away from me.
Whether in heaven or in hell,
you won't find me.
I'll keep myself so far away;
as far away as far away could be.