Music by A. Ditchfield.)

We sit together in I.T. class,
Me and Her, in nineteen eighty something.
Bits and Bytes playing second drum,
To our own curriculum.

We laugh and we joke, we live on a Prayer.
So early days, no burden, no care.
Everyone is in awe of her.
Perfect Beauty, I swear.

Behind the smile and Beautiful eyes,
A pain lies dormant, a deep hurt resides.
She didn't know it, couldn't have a clue.
What lay in store, and what she might do.

She's only half way home?
Not yet half way home?

School Ends, Time and Tides go by, my parted friend.
We Meet again, coincidence and chance.
Quietly, 37 candles burn.
She's only half way, only half way.

She stands in her wedding dress on a cold St. Stephens day.
Las Vegas for her honey moon, New Year in the USA.
A whole new life with him, 'til death it does them part.
Hides her problems underneath her veil, going to be a brand new start.

Everything appears right for her, on the surface it seems at least.
All the demons exorcised, she's tamed the hidden beast.
But the rats of paranoia, gnawing on her mind,
Emerging from the darkness, how could she be so blind?

She stands broken on the viaduct, on a cold and lonely night.
Holds her wedding band into her palm 'til she feels the edges bite.
Salt water and mascara, track the canvas of her face,
A blurred painting in a gallery, she doesn't seem to place.

The weather vane creaking to her right, suggests, persuades, directs.
The taxis drift behind her; a cortège of funeral guests.
She takes one last look into herself, what she's become.
The penultimate rush of finality, here, yet only half way home.

Didn't we see her, not half way home?
Painted in waves, where she lay, finally alone.
All I could see was the child I'd known,
Close enough, yet only half way home.

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