View From My Window
Opposites
I’ve dug myself a fresh grave.
It rains; it pours; I knock the door down.
The river has opened. Here comes Fear,
dripping in sweat, crawling up to the door
on his hands and knees.
Here’s a newborn baby,
so pink, so fresh, it’s breath has
hardly been used at all. In and out,
that's the way, don't forget to open
your eyes.
The joyous laughter of my life has been stilled,
all because of Death;
and each time I look in the mirror I catch myself
glaring at the mirror, giving it the ole
evil eye.
It rains; it pours; I knock the door down.
The river has opened. Here comes Fear,
dripping in sweat, crawling up to the door
on his hands and knees.
Here’s a newborn baby,
so pink, so fresh, it’s breath has
hardly been used at all. In and out,
that's the way, don't forget to open
your eyes.
The joyous laughter of my life has been stilled,
all because of Death;
and each time I look in the mirror I catch myself
glaring at the mirror, giving it the ole
evil eye.
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Opposites
Opposites
