Erick Rudiak. Songwriter. Singer. Human. | Waiting For History

Touring status: on semi-voluntary hiatus/exile. If you're interested in having clever, acoustic pop imbue your next event (house concert, secular wedding, bat mitzvah, FIFA soccer match, etc.), please use the contact form on this site to arrange for my humble presence.

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Waiting For History MP3: 826KB

If you see Carol, please tell her to put away the pro/con list she's writing (or at least point her to the story of the denouement). Sometimes, you just have to drive home by instinct. Debate topic: is pie a verb or a noun?

Lyrics:

If it wasn't for the circumstance in which they met
Carol would be telling all her friends about the pizza boy 
She'd be telling everyone about the way he makes her pie

If it wasn't for the speed with which he struck her car
Carol would have made it home, read a Jackie Collins book
Closed her eyes and seen herself in Borneo with Fabio
Walking in the sand, smoking contraband, but she won't take his hand

She's waiting for history to come true
Waiting for a funny story they can tell their grandkids when they're through
Waiting for history to come true

Carol and the pizza boy are sitting in his living room
Lava lamps are burning, Kind of Blue is on the stereo
Carol's drinking zinfandel, sinking in his easy chair 

If it wasn't for the way the wine would make her talk
Carol would have never said those things about the government
How she wanted to be famous, how she wanted to be held
On her wedding day, in sunny Santa Fe, it's in her DNA 

She's waiting for history to come true
Waiting for a funny story they can tell their grandkids when they're through
Waiting for history to come true

Two kids, an Irish setter, a house with a garage
And if her plan got any better, she'd spend here evenings knitting sweaters,
writing letters to Eddie Vedder, her Congressman-at-large

If it wasn't so embarrassing to kiss him then, 
Carol would have walked across the room and looked him in the eye
Put her hand behind his neck, felt his stubble on her cheek

If it wasn't for the lightning and the thunderstorm
Carol would be walking home, filling out her date report
Plugging all the details in her private secret formula
The length of the commute, he looks good in a suit, but something won't compute

She's waiting for history to come true
Waiting for a funny story they can tell their grandkids when they're through
Waiting for history to come true

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