Easy comes the tide,
On my closing days.
Slight comes your sobs,
In the sound waves.
Soft comes the wilt,
Of ending May.
Subtle comes a sigh,
As I pass away.

Hard was the light.
Cruel was the pain.
But it all ends today.
Sweet comes the dark.
Gentle comes the rain,
As it all ends today.

Sweet and slow,
The river's flow.

May you shed your adorned dresses,
And may you wave your hair, its silver tresses.

May your newfound frailty,
Never be taken for granted,
For I know you were wilting,
Yet you stood strong like a tree, stubbornly planted.

Sweet and slow,
The river's flow,
Forward it goes,
For miles until you run through the earth.

Your wrinkles will be seen in my bedclothes.
Your hair will be seen in my silverware.
Your dreams will be seen at your grave.
We all return to sod while our children cry in vain.

So may the river carry on,
Sweet and slow,
But too soon for I.

Yes, sweet and slow,
The river's flow.

Mellow is the sweet singing of the sparrow,
To the fellow sitting on a tree trunk,
Sobbing himself 'til he's full and blind.
His creed is speaking, ready for taking.

Ready to make the skies green with storm,
Jilted with scorn his prayers must be,
To compose such cruelty.
We let ourselves entertain our hopes.

Yet he will not listen.
So instead we hope the sparrow's notes,
Glisten with his blood,
Glisten.

And the tears are dripping,
Ripping through the crowds.
We never saw the circle,
Constituting to our hate.

So we were ate up by clouds,
And avenging crows,
And millions of divine foes,
Yet defensive we became,
In the cycle of hate!

Mellow is the sweet singing of the sparrow,
O'er flowers growing from hearts long rotten.

Wandering down the hallway,
To the door,
I sit in the floor,
Under the doorframe,
Of your room.

I light a cigarette.
How could I forget,
That night you sat up in bed,
Scared of me?

It's easy to see through you.
The blood on my arms was here to hurt you,
But it doesn't mean you had to let it.
So why did you hush me?
Why was there no blame?

I'd rather hear the earth screaming,
Than feel your soft eyes.
I'd rather feel the dirt teeming,
Without rest!
I'd rather that than hear your cries!

I've come to terms with,
Knowing the hard life has set its eyes on me.
And I'll get ready to go with you.
I'll pack my things,
Ready for wear and tear.
Never did it seem so easy before,
Until I wore,
The big girl shoes.
I've set myself up for rainy days.
Yet what's more to come, rather,
Is the freedom in our smiles,
And the chains ripped off our frowns,
And a new tear on the ground,
From the peace.

You'll console me readily, won't you?
Tell me what I want to hear,
To satisfy me for another day.
No, you say?
I will cry and stray.
I will weep and pray,
Then fall to the bathroom floor,
Begging you to let me wallow in guilt.
No, you say?
And then the weight,
Of the million lies I believed,
Will crack and thud around me.
The calculating cat,
Poised for killing a rat,
Now slumbers at the drop of a hat.
It was you,
And your innocent logic,
That did that.
It's you,
Who, by a touch,
Can make me forgive at last.

The sweeping fiddle,
Notes glittering,
As the trees sway,
Gently as the swinging strands,
Of the weeping willow,
Tangle and strangle me,
Who is hanging by the crook of my knees,
On a tree branch.

I'll only listen 'til I fall asleep,
And crack my skull,
On the stones below,
Swinging, swinging, by my feet,
How cold of you not to notice me,
Singing along with your endless playing,
And enticing my wakefulness in a bribe to exile,
With the lullaby's melody.

I've been tricked!
Now you cut me down,
And take my dead body as your pleasure,
"La, di, da", still playing while you kiss me,
Quite the fiddler you are,
But mind you,
The tree nymph's lips cheat too,
Now you're fertilizer for the tree and I'm still humming and dangling.

"La, di, da, da, DAAA! Delicious!"