January
Friday 15 January 2010 photo 2/2
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I pass a graveyard on my way to work
Today I saw two dozen white roses
On a fresh new mound of dirt
And I wondered about the occupant
When the darkness finally swallowed him
Was he calm and content?
Or was he sweating in a struggle to keep breathing
Ripping apart the sheets that dressed his bed
Crying out loud for someone to help him
And collapsing on his back, all pale and dead?
Maybe it's me who's this unstable
Always obsessed about the end
Why can't I let what happens happen?
And just enjoy the time I spend
Oh, how I wish it was so easy
But when there is no point to anything
It can get a bit confusing
Why is that I keep going?
Why is that we keep going?
Today I saw two dozen white roses
On a fresh new mound of dirt
And I wondered about the occupant
When the darkness finally swallowed him
Was he calm and content?
Or was he sweating in a struggle to keep breathing
Ripping apart the sheets that dressed his bed
Crying out loud for someone to help him
And collapsing on his back, all pale and dead?
Maybe it's me who's this unstable
Always obsessed about the end
Why can't I let what happens happen?
And just enjoy the time I spend
Oh, how I wish it was so easy
But when there is no point to anything
It can get a bit confusing
Why is that I keep going?
Why is that we keep going?
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