when i was still, i heard the sounds 
of why life is, and how my heart 
knew you, when you knew not yourself -- 
oh, what i heard, when i was still, 
i'll always treasure, always will

when i could sit, and simply see 
i saw things move in harmony 
and ecstasy, and galaxies -- 
i knew but just a little bit, 
when i could live and simply sit

but now, i dwell in valentines 
and serpentine misattitudes; 
i want the pure and truthful way, 
but find instead ingratitudes 
have swollen up inside in my mouth 
like angry bees flown too far south

when i was there, i wasn't here: 
the tea much better than the beer 
that comes with giving up inside 
the years men spend in suicide 
and sitting and reflecting on 
how much we had to lose is gone