(carly simon/jacob brackman)



When tom came home his hair was combed

He bought snakeskin boots in rome

That’s not like him

His socks are clean, his shirt is pressed

It isn’t just the way he’s dressed

He smiles out of context and acts so polite

He’s staying at his cousin’s overnight

The protein shakes, that’s not like him

The carrot cakes, that’s not like him

The oatbran flakes, that’s not like him

And the sweet name he called me in his sleep last night

Oh, that’s not like him



He whispers on the telephone

He goes out smelling of cologne

That’s not like him

It’s just a superficial thing

But he’s misplaced his wedding ring

He’s become quite a connoisseur of wine

He’s quoting yeats and gertrude stein

The soho pub, that’s not like him

The racquet club, that’s not like him

Those books on love, that’s not like him

And the sweet name he called me in his sleep last night

Oh, that’s not like him



I caught a glimpse of tom today

At a checkout counter, about to pay

He had a girl on his arm

I’m glad he’s helping out the poor

It’s not like the tom i knew before

Something so touching it made me cry

But my heart was racing, i don’t know why

Those new blue suede shoes, that’s not like him

The ray ban shades, that’s not like him

Those downtown ways, that’s not like him

And the sweet name he called me in his sleep last night

Oh, that’s not like him



The red suspenders, that’s not like him

The berries in the blender, that’s not like him

Those twelve step groups, that’s not like him

And guadeloupe, that’s not like him

Those books on zen, that’s not like him

The karate classes, that’s not like him

The fishing gear, that’s not like him

Not like him, that’s not like him




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