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
©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
