this is a story i'd like to tell
of things that went well
of things oh, pray tell
of sounds you can hear
inside a shell
in hell.
death drums down
the stairs from me
i talk to him everyday
just to say hey
we pass by and by
like ships in the night
beside him i fly
but past him i go
towards the sunrise
to rainbows
and to glittery skies.
i fly
in the sky
on the clouds i ride
skywalker i know
my lover to go
killed my fathers i have
none: left do i know
to look for in the sky
no stars in the flies
that litter the skies
and see all we know
like
a mother i know
but she's down below
so a child of the deep
the dark and the creep
i see roots to the end
and plant seeds in the past
and the future i watch
and pray for
and hope for
and care for
and love for
the ones i know
in the front row
i fell in love with the crow
and the way of the flow
and even what is down so low
do i know.
so please, death, come,
around and again
like everyday,
to the ones that i love,
so that they may be spared
a fate of fewer beautiful skies.
and death to a brighter tomorrow
a sunnier day
a more lovely sky
a more beautiful ray
to cast a more lovely shadow
on the next, most beautiful day.
