He kept her locked,
In his mother's antique jewelry box
And she'd always spin when he called
Like a good little girl
She'd remind him of his mother and
The pin-up girls his father kept
A secret in the bottom of his dresser drawer
He'd always loved her for
The gentle way she'd tilt her head
And that sad-eyed grin she wore
With her hair tied back, she would pirouette
Across her mahogany course
He'd tell her it could be worse
Then he'd shut her up in the dark again so that he
Could say his prayers
And he'd search for God in a darkening room
But God's not in the dark, and He's not in the gloom
He's not in the fire that follows you home
Every day after school, when you're walking alone
He's not in those tremors that shake you from bed
And He's not in those hideous dreams in your head
But He waits in the silence
That great guilty silence that falls
When the music stops