| Death is a terrifying thing
|
| I don’t know if it just means I’m getting older, but every day just seems more
|
| real
|
| I don’t dwell on it like it’s a monster under the bed that’s out to get me
|
| I have much more reverence than that, I-I just fear it
|
| Like I fear God
|
| But, death has become another taboo topic, where simply asking questions are
|
| considered ignorance or considered stupidity
|
| But, the problem is, when I was a kid, I come from such a big family
|
| So it means that a lot of people died in my life
|
| And even though I’ve been to a lot of funerals, I still don’t get it
|
| I still don’t understand what happens, and I definitely don’t understand why we
|
| have a ceremony for it
|
| I was told it was to celebrate life, but we did that when we were living
|
| So when I die
|
| Burn my body into ashes and use them to fertilize the tree in front of the
|
| funeral home that used to be my church
|
| The one across from the car dealership on Henderson in Porterville, California
|
| The one next to La Mission De Jesús, and make sure the tree hears you say, «You brought the most joy when I was a child, because you provided a place to
|
| exist outside of the walls I never understood»
|
| And promise me that the tree will someday die, too so she can see me again
|
| I still get caught up thinking of death I’ve seen
|
| When I heard my grandmother died, my mom didn’t say, «Hey, grandma’s dead,» or «Sorry, son, but Grandma’s passed,» she said, «Son, your grandma’s with the Lord
|
| now. |
| She then continued, she’s no longer in pain, she’s no longer sick,
|
| she’s finally at peace, she’s finally happy.»
|
| I guess if I was there during her final breath, I would look at her and say, «Thank you, your happiness gives my pain a purpose, I love you.»
|
| And my quiet resentment
|
| Turns to love I lose
|
| I forgot what you said
|
| I forget what you meant
|
| Quiet resentment
|
| Turns to love I lose
|
| I forgot what you said
|
| I forget what you meant
|
| I forget what you meant, I’ve been choking on nothing
|
| Choking on nothing again
|
| Hoping for something
|
| Hoping for something to captivate my head
|
| Death is real, I don’t need an augmentation of the way that I think
|
| It’s easy to feel its embrace when your hands are on the edge of a cliff,
|
| looking at the brink of your own defeat
|
| And you’re afraid of real failure, so you live for fake success
|
| You try to trace behavior in your own tattered dress
|
| Hoping you’ll be in a pine box long enough to feel alive
|
| The irony is that it’s the only way that we can still fight
|
| But the moments that you’ll never have back
|
| I can tell you what I love, but I cannot tell you what I lack
|
| From what I’ve experienced and what I think I can feel
|
| You can’t believe in love, if you don’t believe that death is real |