[ That still leaves a lot of songs in the world, more than she can count. And maybe the one she picks is about as typical as it gets, but it's not like he'll know that.
(It's on her mind, maybe, all the death and Biblical imagery and loneliness mingled together.)
Regardless, her voice starts small--soft, a little uncertain, but gaining strength and volume as the melody soars up: ]
Well, maybe I've been here before. I know this room, and I've walked this floor. I used to live alone before I knew you. I've seen your flag on the marble arch. Love is not a victory march-- It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah.
[ And then the chorus, hallelujah over and over. Just the one verse and the chorus, and then it's quiet again on her end. There's no reason to make him sit through an entire karaoke session over the crystal. ]
A violin, played simply, imitating the melody. Byerly isn't lying about being talented: he gets it in his first go. It's unadorned, but the notes are clear. ]
Hallelujah's, like...for saying God is good. You'd say something like 'praise the Maker.'
[ Beth almost doesn't want to explain, since the alternative's sitting there and listening to him play. Already, she's making a mental list of other songs to teach him--if all he needs is to hear them sung to memorize them, they could do this forever. So much Tom Waits. Elvis Costello. Bob Dylan. John Prine. And all the songs her father would've loved on the violin, Irish ballads and drinking songs. ]
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What kind of song?
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[ That still leaves a lot of songs in the world, more than she can count. And maybe the one she picks is about as typical as it gets, but it's not like he'll know that.
(It's on her mind, maybe, all the death and Biblical imagery and loneliness mingled together.)
Regardless, her voice starts small--soft, a little uncertain, but gaining strength and volume as the melody soars up: ]
Well, maybe I've been here before.
I know this room, and I've walked this floor.
I used to live alone before I knew you.
I've seen your flag on the marble arch.
Love is not a victory march--
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah.
[ And then the chorus, hallelujah over and over. Just the one verse and the chorus, and then it's quiet again on her end. There's no reason to make him sit through an entire karaoke session over the crystal. ]
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A violin, played simply, imitating the melody. Byerly isn't lying about being talented: he gets it in his first go. It's unadorned, but the notes are clear. ]
Is that right?
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Yeah--that's really good. There's more verses, but the melody's always the same.
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[ He plays it again, this time expressively, lingering over the notes as needed for the drama. And he speaks as he plays: ]
Lost love, broken hearts, et cetera. What's that word mean, hallelujah?
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[ Beth almost doesn't want to explain, since the alternative's sitting there and listening to him play. Already, she's making a mental list of other songs to teach him--if all he needs is to hear them sung to memorize them, they could do this forever. So much Tom Waits. Elvis Costello. Bob Dylan. John Prine. And all the songs her father would've loved on the violin, Irish ballads and drinking songs. ]
It's...kind of ironic, in this one.
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You broke my heart, oh how could you
Do that dreadful thing you do
The Maker's quite a bastard
Hallelujah.
Something like that?
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Yeah. But if you wanted to write your own version, it'd have to have more stuff from the Chant.