When all methods have been tried, all highways travelled,
all sentences written, all messages sent
To get a handgun from somewhere and just do it
That’d be my method of choice
Practise on a target first to get the feel
Put on my long black coat and boots
Listen to one more song, sing one more dream
Paint my nail one last time
Have one more shot of whiskey
Read one more poem
Have one last orgasm, one final useless fantasy
Then just load it and shut my mouth
Shut my mouth around the barrel
Point it at this brain behind its dense bone wall
Steady it with both these wasted hands
Think again
Think again of that thing I just can’t seem to get
Think again of that thing I just can’t seem to get
Think again of that place I just can’t seem to stay
Can’t seem to stay
Think again of that place I just can’t seem to stay
Think again of that place I just can’t seem to stay
Think again of that thing I just can’t seem to give
And just click the trigger back
Make a mess on the wall that I won’t have to clean up
Go join all the other dead poets at their eternal reading
Go drink their eternal wine and take up smoking at last
Sit with me under my kind of trees
as dusk falls and lights come on
and the band warms up
under my kind of trees
Sit with meSit with me under my kind of trees
as dusk falls and lights come on
and the band warms up
under my kind of trees
Sit with meSit with me under my kind of trees
as the night goes on and on and on
and on and on and on…
Sit with meSit with me under my kind of trees
as the night goes on and on and on
and on and on and on…
Sit with me
She says
She says these wounds and scars
She says these wounds and scars will make you a strong wise woman
and she should know
Meet my eyes and say my name
as that darkness melts and the dawn declaims
and the sun makes light of the two of us
Say my name
The women give me photographs and poems named after mine
and beautiful cloth-bound notebooks