The Song Challenge
Crumblin' Down
By Sarah
I have to get out of here.
Mrs. Arturro is still talking. I can see her mouth moving, but the words aren't making sense anymore.
I need to leave. Now.
"Excuse me, Mrs. Arturro, I have to see to a parishioner."
Yeah, right. Me.
Father T sees me leaving. He knows I'll be back. I always come back. I just need some time.
Christ, it's hot. Taking off the collar isn't going to be enough tonight. Let me unbutton - that's better.
The walk to the garage always helps me clear my head. I'm glad I don't keep the car at the rectory.
It's bad enough being the subject of fantasies for half the girl's in the youth group. If they saw what Father Santos drove around in, well, let's just say they would not understand.
Father T says a man can't help his outward appearance. But I know what they whisper about when they think I can't hear. Big hands, bigger…
Anyway, he let me keep the car when I joined the church. "God wouldn't want you to give up everything, Ray," he'd told me. Smiled when he said it, too. He's a good man.
My father bought it for me - the car, I mean. Came home from school the day I turned 16 and it was sitting in the driveway. Cherry red, vintage '67 Mustang. With a couple of "improvements."
State of the art stereo. Bullet-proof glass. Sawed-off under the driver's seat. Everything a teenage boy could want.
What does it say about me that the leather seat still feels good? That I still get a rush when I drop it into gear and burn rubber out on the highway, music blasting every thought out of my head?
Pulling out of the parking garage, I find the disc I want and shove it in the CD player. Ah, there we go. You don't mind if I crank it up some, do you?
Well, some people ain't no damn good
You can trust `em, you can't love `em,
no good deed goes unpunished
And I don't mind being their whippin' boy
I've had that pleasure for years and years
I love this song. Always have. People think a priest isn't supposed to listen to music with an edge, but they're wrong. See, you have to have passion to do this job. I always had that. Maybe too much. Then again, how much is too much?
No, no, I never was a sinner, tell me what else can I do?
Second best is what you get 'till you learn to bend the rules
And time respects no person and what you lift up must fall
there waitin' outside to claim my crumblin' walls
My family thinks I took this gig because I couldn't hack it in the business. Didn't have the stomach for the blood and the violence. They don't know, see, because I went out alone that first time.
You're supposed to have someone with you your first time. But I begged and whined 'til my father finally gave in and let me do it my way. It was just one of the street pushers anyway. Some young thug dad thought was getting "too big for his britches".
You should have seen the look on his face when I blew a hole through him. Kind of surprised, like he couldn't believe his bad luck. And the blood. Man, it was everywhere. On me, all over the walls of that hell-hole, running down his legs like a river.
I thought I was ready for it, you know? But nothing prepares you for the rush. The wild exhilaration of doing it and then getting away.
When the walls come tumblin' down
When the walls come crumblin' - crumblin'
When the walls come tumblin' - tumblin' down
It wasn't until later that I stopped to think about it. What would happen to me if I let go like that everytime I went out on a job. Christ, it could get to be like a drug. At least for me it could.
Don't need to look over my shoulder to see what I'm after
Father T says it's the way you put your passions to use that makes a man what he is. He says you can be a force for good or a force for evil in this world. It's all in the way you use it.
You can bend me, you can break me but you better stand
clear
When the walls come tumblin' down
When the walls come crumblin' - crumblin'
When the walls come tumblin' - tumblin' down
So here I am. This is the choice I made. I think my family- hell, most people, forget what it was like for the early Christians. They had a choice between the lions and the cross. Ripped to shreds or hung out to dry.
When the walls come tumblin' down
When the walls come crumblin' - crumblin'
When the walls come tumblin' - tumblin' down
Nights like this, with the music up loud and the wind in my ears, I wonder if maybe I made the wrong decision. It's funny. Everytime I come out for a ride anymore, I don't even know I've been crying until I taste the salt in my mouth.
tumblin' - tumblin' down