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letra de the copper top - bill wells

the bar’s busier than it should be on a weekday afternoon as the door swings shut behind me, but i’m the only one wearing a suit. no-one seems to notice my entrance though, i suppose they must be used to mourners in the nearest pub to the crematorium. i don’t think i could’ve coped with the wake, i had to make a quick exit to be alone with my memories, i was sick of hearing everyone else’s. i buy a pint and sit down.
“see, the trouble with you is that you’re top heavy”, said the tailor as he measured me up. they don’t get asked much for three-piece suits these days, so my choice was limited. i went for all-purpose black, or ‘charcoal grey’ as he called it. looks black to me. this is the second time i’ve worn it, the first was a wedding and there’s a christening next week so i might as well get my money’s worth. birth, love and death: the only reasons to get dressed up. i loosen my tie.
halfway through my pint and a text message from john says he’s waiting outside, sooner than i’d expected. i down what’s left and step out into the bright afternoon and get in the car. i look up and see the pub’s once brilliant copper roof has oxidized over the years and it’s now a dull, pastel green. everything’s getting older.

- bill wells

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