The story behind this song
Six o'clock, the news comes on, and there's still a pause to wait for his verdict on it. His glasses sit folded on the side table like he'll need them; the cushion holds a shape that won't sit right for anyone else; the dog still checks the chair each evening, and so does she. Forty years of would-you-look-at-that hollered at the television.
The house keeps expecting him. So does she. The chair stays exactly where it is — she can't move it, and she won't.
For the widow who hears his voice come out of her own mouth across the empty room, and answers it anyway.
Lyrics
Six o'clock
The news comes on
I still wait for your verdict
The news comes on
I still wait for your verdict
Your glasses on the side table, folded like you'll need them
The cushion still remembers you — a shape that won't sit right
You'd pat the armrest twice and the dog would come running
She still checks the chair each evening. So do I.
The cushion still remembers you — a shape that won't sit right
You'd pat the armrest twice and the dog would come running
She still checks the chair each evening. So do I.
The house keeps expecting you
And so do I, my love. So do I.
And so do I, my love. So do I.
The chair you sat in is the center of this house
Forty years of would-you-look-at-that at the television
I talk back to the anchors now, the way you always did
The chair you sat in, my love —
I can't move it. And I won't.
Forty years of would-you-look-at-that at the television
I talk back to the anchors now, the way you always did
The chair you sat in, my love —
I can't move it. And I won't.
Your side of the closet still smells like cedar and your aftershave
I open it on hard days. I'm not ashamed to say it.
You narrated the whole world from that worn-out corduroy throne
Weather, ballgames, headlines — what I'd give to be interrupted
I open it on hard days. I'm not ashamed to say it.
You narrated the whole world from that worn-out corduroy throne
Weather, ballgames, headlines — what I'd give to be interrupted
The house keeps expecting you
And so do I, my love. So do I.
And so do I, my love. So do I.
The chair you sat in is the center of this house
Forty years of would-you-look-at-that at the television
I talk back to the anchors now, the way you always did
The chair you sat in, my love —
I can't move it. And I won't.
Forty years of would-you-look-at-that at the television
I talk back to the anchors now, the way you always did
The chair you sat in, my love —
I can't move it. And I won't.
Last night the news ran something you'd have hollered at
And I heard myself say it, clear across the empty room —
"Would you look at that."
It's in me now
You left your voice in mine
And I heard myself say it, clear across the empty room —
"Would you look at that."
It's in me now
You left your voice in mine
The chair you sat in is the center of this house
Forty years of would-you-look-at-that at the television
I talk back to the anchors now, the way you always did
The chair you sat in, my love —
I can't move it. And I won't.
Forty years of would-you-look-at-that at the television
I talk back to the anchors now, the way you always did
The chair you sat in, my love —
I can't move it. And I won't.
Six o'clock
Sit with me a while
Look at that. Just look at that.
Sit with me a while
Look at that. Just look at that.
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