From the recording Born on A Monday
Written as a Christmas present for my beloved drummer and brother, Erik Welsh. He used to tell stories about a man named Benjamin who lived in the apartment above him. I took those ideas and as in most songs, made the rest up.
Lyrics
Benjamin waits, he never complains
Disheveled and broken, not a word spoken
Except for his grin, says won't you come in
When no one comes to call
In the hallway he stands
His hat's in his hand, his collar's too wide
His best suit and his tie are dirty and thin
Still he dons them again, when no one comes to call
And is there somebody out there that he once loved?
Did she leave him or just pass away?
And do the memories haunt him or is he lost
Stumbling for something to say?
Benjamin knows, wherever he goes
They taunt and they tease him
Still he's pleased they notice at all
Like a face on the wall
When no one comes to call
And were their battles he'd won?
Were their fortunes lost?
Did he drink himself deep into debt?
And does it matter at all, is it easier
When you just can't recall your regrets?
Benjamin's scared, he stays in his chair
His walk is unsteady, his breathing is heavy
And rattles like tin
As the ending begins
When no one comes to call
When no one comes to call