What the Night Won’t Keep

Verse 1

Your call came in at half past ten.

I watched it light the room.

Six years since you were nineteen,

And I still couldn’t answer you.

You said, “Hey, Dad. It’s me again.

Same number as before.

I’m off all day on Sunday.”

Then I played it back once more.

Chorus

What the night won’t keep

Is the lie I tell all day:

That I don’t miss you at my table,

That I’m better off this way.

I taught you how to stand your ground.

I thought that made you strong.

I never showed you what it takes

To say, “Son, I was wrong.”

Verse 2

Your work shirt’s hanging in the shed,

The sleeves still rolled in two.

We spent that summer fixing cars.

I thought I’d work with you.

You said you’d found a job out west.

I said, “Then go alone.

If this place ain’t good enough for you,

Don’t come running home.”

Chorus

What the night won’t keep

Is the lie I tell all day:

That I don’t miss you at my table,

That I’m better off this way.

I taught you how to stand your ground.

I thought that made you strong.

I never showed you what it takes

To say, “Son, I was wrong.”

Bridge

Sunday came. I called at nine.

You answered, “Dad? You there?”

I said, “You should’ve had my blessing.”

I heard you take a breath.

I almost said, “I only meant…”

Then let the sentence die.

You said, “I needed you to want me.”

I said, “I do. I lied.”

Final chorus

What the night won’t keep

Is the lie I told all day.

Son, I miss you at my table.

I was wrong to send you away.

I taught you how to stand your ground.

You had to stand alone.

You don’t owe me a thing for calling.

I was wrong. I was wrong.

Outro

You said, “There’s quite a lot to tell.”

I said, “I’ve got the time.”