The High Life Beckons

My brother Phred was a flawed angel; some would say with an emphasis on flawed. He struggled mightily with his own foibles, and sometimes, even when he won against them, he did so only to introduce a set of unforeseen side effects. Per his custom — his drive — he described these things in his songs, bluntly and without whitewashing. He kept so much private, yet he confessed his very soul to his listeners. I knew much of what was going on in Phred’s life at any given time, but it was only after hearing him sing that I felt I could truly understand what he was going through. “The High Life Beckons” is a perfect case in point. Here are his lyrics.

“The High Life Beckons”
©Phred Rainey

Some night sharp, and some nights dull

Some half empty, some half full

If I could only drink wine

     But not all the time

And not fall from grace

     Or on my face

But that just ain’t to be

     Such is me

Sometimes I think I’d rather be in handcuffs

Strolling down the avenue in handcuffs

     Whistling a merry tune I’d be

     Wondering what it’s like to be free

Each night I let the bottle down

And every single bar in town

It’s part of the daily grind

     My body aches for wine

The comfort that it brings

     And not those other things

But that just ain’t to be

     Woe is me

You people ought to see me in my handcuffs

I’ll never get out of these handcuffs

     A wretched life awaits if I do

     So hard to believe, but it’s true