Lyrics by John Hall
Music by Roger Bourland
Left Behind
One man solitary, a hard weight to carry;
Doors are closed, tears are cried,
there’s no feeling left inside,
With no map and no guide you’re just Left Behind.
Shadows of former selves beckon and call.
Dusty and shaky they try not to fall,
Like the books on the shelves of a spare bedroom wall,
Unloved and unread, not living, not dead, they’re just Left Behind.
Left Behind. Left Behind.
It’s hard to consider without sounding bitter,
Feelin’ lonely, cast aside and Left Behind.
And what of those people we don’t even know
Who give of themselves and try not to show
How short the time is when it’s your time to go and they’re
just Left Behind. Left Behind.
And here’s to the women who remember to care,
Our lesbian sisters who nurtured us where
Damn few would follow the pain that we share and be Left Behind. Left Behind.
So let’s give a toast to the ones left behind.
They’re often forgotten, dismissed from our mind.
The tears that they’ve cried have left them half blind,
‘Cause the pain that they feel is the very worst kind.
They’re just Left Behind.
Left Behind. Left Behind.
It’s hard to consider without sounding bitter,
Feelin’ lonely, cast aside and Left Behind.
Left Behind. Left Behind.
Copyright ©1992 John Hall & Roger Bourland
Commissioned and Performed by the Gay Men’s Chorus of Los Angeles. Funded in part by the Cultural Affairs Department, City of Los Angeles.