| She had this dream about a song
|
| She was certain that it was about a burial
|
| The ritual beautifully written
|
| Even the groove was filled with sadness
|
| Every beat went all the way down
|
| Into the two holes in the ground
|
| It had the most moving chord changes
|
| She was certain the lyrics
|
| Went about burying someone’s ashes
|
| And then having a cigarette
|
| Like it was telling her, «Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
|
| Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
|
| From me to you,» but I don’t think it was
|
| I had a dream about this song
|
| That I had not written yet
|
| Like I used to dream of fucking before I knew how
|
| I was playing some kind of instrument
|
| That was just a shape in the earth
|
| Like I was playing by digging my own grave
|
| And I scooped out dirt with two fingers
|
| Placed it in my mouth
|
| Like ashes to ashes, dust to dust
|
| Put two fingers in the earth
|
| Into rotting plums
|
| Into the honeypot
|
| Into moist nude magazines
|
| Or on your device
|
| Swipe with two fingers
|
| Like you were kicking feet underwater, or under the earth
|
| To get up to the surface
|
| Put two fingers in the earth
|
| Into the honeypot
|
| I am digging my own grave in the honeypot
|
| Like ashes to ashes, dust to dust |