can't stand the idea of rotting in the ground
there are simply gut instincts for which we must report
didn't see what was happening, texting on the phone
trains passing by, rats being run over, drifting on the line
learned of an emotion so sobering
feel no longer the hit of ecstasy
can't feel the light of day
can't stand the feeling of rotting underground
he explains, the desire of cremation
the hope of fullfilling all expectations
in rhythm with the gates
a surface call going deep within the soul
didn't know what was to come
but went through the doors anyways
the last one, he was so young.
from time to time
the mundane egg asks
what is the last moment in time
before we learn
when is the last moment in time
before we give what we can take
cradle this shell
crumble the pain
bubblewrap the shock
and give what we can take
this is where he fell
fell out
of the mundane egg.
