Music and sorrow go hand in hand, such as death
and breathing your last breath.
The beating
of drums
seeking
what love
is left in this world.
Kansas and Oklahoma have never been more beautiful
than the day I died.
My body
travelling where my heart refuses to go.
Scents so familiar,
scents so far away,
wheat grass, hay bundles,
livestock harmonizing to the breeze blowing.
I can't touch them,
things I once loved so tenderly
I cannot wipe away the tears
tears my body cannot control for
I have died, this is where my song ends.
My body travelling
where my heart refuses to go.
I am not perfect.
My pitch will never be perfect.
Damaged, beaten
bruised and broken, drums.
I cannot see what my heart so tenderly loves
my body is travelling where my heart refuses
to go.
I have died.
I have died and there is no second chance after this,
history gives way, and no one
knows.
I have died.
|