I too will die, my dear,
My ashes sifted into sand.
I'll not always be around to hear
The sobbing of the ******.
Am I one of them or am I me?
Flawed, fleeing, fickle, feigned.
Am I what I'm s'posed to be,
Or am I just insane?
For if I tell truth just as it is
I love the dirt that parts my lips.
It settles in my eyelashes
It stays around, it sticks.
Buried by the teaspoonful
I've lain here all these years.
I've sung my songs to ghostly throngs
And none have reached their ears.
I love the way the soil feels
Just like a featherbed.
I love running my cold fingers through,
Since it's been lavished on the dead.
For death's a thing to be enjoyed
And all existence to be savored.
Whatever it was that put me here
Was doing me a favor.
To die feels like a Sunday morning-
Nowhere to go and nothing to do.
I hardly heed my lovers' warnings
For they are down here too.
To be here feels like restful sleep,
A warm dark quiet sanctuary
Where all my thoughts are mine to keep
And where my screams won't carry.
You may shame me for my wretchedness,
You won't be first or last, of many,
But none of you will ever guess
That I don't want you to save me.
I know what suffering is, my friend,
It was my first pale memory.
And realizing that life could end?
It didn't scare me any.
My childhood friends were far from gay-
Ashes like snow on country towns,
Who's falling on our heads today?
Whose ashes drift the ground?
Forgive me if I love a grave
When I know there's so much worse out there.
The one thing I never forgave
Was choosing not to care.
Although my heart has long since ceased
Its wild silly frantic beating,
My love has, to be frank, increased,
And oh, from love I like a beating.
Away down here beneath the ground,
I find the coldest of the dead,
And I breathe life into their mouths
And their hungry souls are never fed.
I crawl right in beside them
And they demand more than I've got.
I give to them until it hurts
But when I've left, they have forgot.
I've never been a bright new soul,
I've never got more than I gave.
I suppose all that should take a toll...
Oh, but I do love a grave.