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letra de to dance among the marigolds - 137 (us)

sun
i hope you tell me how you feel when you’re dead and gone
in form of whispers upon the wind
and the smell at dawn

spending the bulk of my sunny days
wary of clouds
it’s no wonder how cemeteries
can be so loud

so far, i’m feeling the darkness pull
as i recollect upon the cold sweats
from seeing the enemies back at school

i shake my head in waking hours
thinking of the terror in past;
ever seen a sempster look at fabric
thinking tear will last?

i lost
my father a couple years back
but even thеn i knew futility
of mourning reaper’s bеck
so i do keep a 4 5
warm between my two thighs
so i can shoot the grim reaper
right between his two eyes
peering deep into fog, i’m pondering theme of the haze
know a lot of people happy wandering around in a daze;
living on planet of minerals, but the question’s still posed
what diamond can the blind man appraise?

and no, i’m not okay
even if i smile in revelry;
and i pray that storm will drown the day
so that sullen sky will cry for me

do you know where the pain goes
if you have no tears to cry
in the depths of all your throes?

i’ve never been that lachrymose
so i weep in the words i chose
what a weary set of fleshly clothes

fell from heaven ’cause a brother was selected
broke a couple bones but i suppose that is expected;
piper told me that i’d need to hurt upon this stage
so i bled upon the page so all my runes could be perfected

i once saw a filth fly suffocate in feces
and right then, i knew what honey bee taught kazantzakis;
i feel like a parched man that’s searching for oases
to quench my thirst you’re gonna need a little more than nikes
i’ve been
a-searching for the treasure;
i
don’t think
your kind of pleasure measures;
try
guessing the kind of wine i’m drinking
it doesn’t have an origin in any place you’re thinking;
i lie awake to ponder all the sickness that’s befallen me
but retrospection doesn’t keep the present self from sinking

amazing how so quickly supple skin can fade
and the ease with which the pieces on the board are played

sun
i hope you tell me how you feel when you’re dead and gone
in form of whispers upon the wind
and the smell at dawn

spending the bulk of my sunny days
wary of clouds
it’s no wonder how cemeteries
can be so loud

i recall the last i spoke
with the ones the reaper chose;
smiles and laughs and last phone calls
all before they greeted palls
i hope you tell me how you feel when you’re dead and gone
i’ll listen to the whispers every dawn

- 137 us

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