He died just like his mother did
just down the hill from where she'd lived.
And though he'd tried to rearrange his life,
he never did.

I think he knew I'd always loved him
although we never said goodbye
and though I never watched him suffer
I got to watch him die.

And with a verse from the Gita
and a prayer for his peace
I softly sang away his life on my guitar
to give him ease.

And a thousand pounds of flesh
and a million miles of steel
and a billion feet of barbwire fence
could never heal.

Fat boy's getting pushed around at school
and the grapefruit tastes so good
and a fifth of scotch don't cost that much these days
though it probably should.

© 2001 GNILSONGS

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