Tom: D
Introdução:
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You'll recall from the sagas I hope Grettir's last stand at Drangey
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How his grip on the sword made his enemies cut off his hand
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If he'd fled here instead, and had tasted this terrible coffee
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Or read these letters you sent he'd surrender
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and lay the blade down
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And it's Hall - o - ween
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Skinny ghosts dress like cowboys and rest
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at the railing by my door
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On their way from the children's ward
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Bev Monroe and his Pembina Valley boys play at the party
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And I practice my English on nurses, "Oh, that's a nice name."
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And they may ask for mine, but the burns on my back from the x-rays
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Say I shouldn't show anyone anything ever again
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In another year
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I'll be buried or shivering here.
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Coughing at the grey spittoon
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Painted orange by the harvest moon
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Pack up mother's clothes
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Drive her down to the new Betel Home
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Sell the boat to Arnison
And then go...
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stand up straight in the place you're longing for
G A
And don't write to me anymore