Oh Yorick, you little crunchy skull, tell me, baby,
answer all the questions in "Blowing in the Wind"
on pacifism and what-is/how-to-be a man, please
and then play the piano while I lie on the lid of it
and let's sing the blues about being and nonbeing
and get drunk on scotch, as old as little young me
and the places, faces, and names we've forgotten
all while my rusty-stringed guitar gently weeps,
and geese run in droves over my grave, shivering
up and down my spine as my ears just burn alive
with the sword of death on a frazzled dried string
hangs over our heads to remind us we are young
we must not waste a second of life with "frivolity"
we are young, dead, all roguish,
we are real, but not broken--yet!
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 7:12 PM UTC
Oh Yorick, you little crunchy skull, tell me, baby,
answer all the questions in "Blowing in the Wind"
on pacifism and what-is/how-to-be a man, please
and then play the piano while I lie on the lid of it
and let's sing the blues about being and nonbeing
and get drunk on scotch, as old as little young me
and the places, faces, and names we've forgotten
all while my rusty-stringed guitar gently weeps,
and geese run in droves over my grave, shivering
up and down my spine as my ears just burn alive
with the sword of death on a frazzled dried string
hangs over our heads to remind us we are young
we must not waste a second of life with "frivolity"
we are young, dead, all roguish,
we are real, but not broken--yet!
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