– Ponies with Swallow the Sun
[Click here for the accompanying song]
She Visits Her Friends
I can still see their smiles.
All my friends' familiar faces,
They stood here beside me at the eve of the gala.
Through this one night, all nights for years
Over the centuries, over the mortal lifetimes…
After gala I go to see my friends,
Meet them in their rest,
Give them my time…
This one night
I remember them, put flowers on their graves,
When they've left me
Where I cannot follow…
We had our days together.
Our laughter, rich and heartfelt.
In their company I felt peace:
Every moment's measureless ease,
No more a queen,
Not a goddess,
Just a friend.
Could I ever forget them…?
Is this the price I pay for immortality?
See them wither and fade over the passing times,
Carry the memories, when the world around forgets?
When their smiles pass away, when it's all that's lef
because he set her in the stars
and painted out the sadness of her eyes,
colored them with the red and purple
of the nebulae, and shaded in her skirt
in the curves of a million galaxies.
and I heard that her mortal heart stopped beating
while he sat beside her in space, in the air that
always tells him that he is not as big
as the solar system, as the galaxy, as the supercluster.
but he could have been the only person in the universe
when she smiled,
and so he colored in the blackness up above
and gave away the sky to her blue eyes.
on late night television
if the end is already in sight
am I supposed to pull the sheets up to my neck,
count to zero,
smile, and cease?
keep your pills, in all their pretty colors:
celebrex, propecia, allegra, lipitor, zanex, viagra
keep them for scrabble
keep your rogaine, your facelifts
keep your death insurance
keep your graveyard reservations
hit me running.
let me go down swinging
make it a sport:
give me a ten-minute head start
and an obstacle course.
place a beautiful girl on the far side of a mine field
and whisper, "she wants to kiss you"
target me on my feet
dodging doomsday's in slow-mo bullet time
let me duel the grim reaper in a poetry slam
but let me lay where i fall
let the buzzards and coyotes
pick apart my bones
don't stuff me and sew me up
waste my estate on alcohol for my wake
instead of wood for a coffin,
build me a funeral pyre
and set me ablaze like a pagan-warrior-king