This is a time when good words will falter,
my subtle decline and rank disclosure
of all the things that I once claimed to love,
I'm chained from the sky; I'm chained to the Earth.

I'm killing the cancer, I'm kissing you,
I'm within my own mind, I'm missing you,

you're wilting in sunlight, you're leaving me,
you're hitting your targets, forgetting me.

I am a man of a tiresome load,
a grave concealed under the morning snow,
of gracious poetry, of failed adult,
of weeping willow tree, of heart grown cold.

This is a time to prepare the slaughter,
lay down our arms, put old selves asunder!
This is the time for all words into thought,
of Earth's spinning dance, a whisper of God.

I'm tired of longing, I finally see,
I need this belonging, I'm finally free.

You're posting your letters, you're doing fine,
you don't need me here, for the sun to shine.