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
