There's an eerie emptiness when listening to a dead man sing
The music seems present
His voice is very much real
And the moment seems so current
He is dead
And gone
His home now burried deep in the soil
Under his nails
In his hair
And so many skeletons lie crooked under the earth
Like him
With their blood above and wandering
Because that's what people do
When they're alive
They wander
Until they die
They, too
And smile
And kiss
And breathe
But he is dead
And though the music plays and his voice is still alive
He is dead
And has been dead
Always to be dead
Maybe someday he will die for good
But as of now I have a poster of him on my wall


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