WHO: Daryl Dixon and OPEN WHERE: The Pub WHEN: Sunday, after Maryanne picks up the baby WHAT: Singing! Being annoyed with himself for singing. WARNINGS: Daryl's mouth, TBD STATUS: Open/Ongoing!
Daryl had gone to the pub early. He didn't really want to drink, but for once he actually didn't feel like being alone. He felt kind of like shit that he'd avoided the elf party all together - it might have been fun - and yet on the other hand, he knew full well that it wasn't any place for someone like him. Elf-parties and Georgia rednecks didn't seem like a very good match. So here he was, in the pub way too early in the morning.
He wasn't drinking, at least.
Sitting there, he was suddenly overcome with a strange desire to listen to music and then...what the hell...to sing it himself. But he couldn't sing!
Nonetheless, he found himself standing, and moving to the middle of the room, and much to his surprise, he burst out singing some damned hippie song.
A winter's day In a deep and dark December; I am alone, Gazing from my window to the streets below On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow. I am a rock, I am an island.
I've built walls, A fortress deep and mighty, That none may penetrate. I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain. It's laughter and it's loving I disdain. I am a rock, I am an island.
Don't talk of love, But I've heard the words before; It's sleeping in my memory. I won't disturb the slumber of feelings that have died. If I never loved I never would have cried. I am a rock, I am an island.
I have my books And my poetry to protect me; I am shielded in my armor, Hiding in my room, safe within my womb. I touch no one and no one touches me. I am a rock, I am an island.
And a rock feels no pain; And an island never cries.