Hellsville

it's another quiet day in Hellsville

the blood has slowed to

a trickle,

in the streets

we've long since moved away from

'all-is-wellsville'

and we can barely stand on

our own two feet

there's a nagging voice in the

back of my mind

saying,

i'm not gonna make it,

i'm not gonna make it,

i'm not gonna make it...

but i've long ago forgotten

what it was i was trying to reach...

so just let me die in the spring

somewhere on a nice beach

fragrant blooms and

new life exploding on

one side

incessantly crashing heartbeat

of the surf

and the impossibility of the

vast sea

on the other.

beat, beat,

stop.

i hope it won't be a bother.

i've had enough,

some days

i've had a (reasonably) good life

but the things that were

supposed to matter

just never really shined

all that bright

don't weep for me

when i'm gone

but remember who i was,

why i was

and once in a while

listen to

some

of my songs?