Eulogy

"Love, there are flowers hanging in the vine
So high you cannot see
Now, my mind must go on holiday, torn from it's hook, a broken valentine
I see the smoke from a revolver, will I get hit, I hardly care
When I'm bombed, I stretch like bubblegum
And look too long straight at the morning sun
Love, there are flowers along the avenue, all things perfectly in place
I build a shrine
I set a monument
Because you're fire
Because you're a fire escape."

Mark Lanegan. My poet for the night.

I decided to come back, just for now.