i cant feel a thing when i feel it all,
ya this typa shit that make you call ya mom,
i heard she love my songs,
this aint made for the charts i aint your number 1,
but i know that you gon play me when ya heart is numb.
and we can cry for love
spaces all liminal,
messages subliminal,
moods swings in intervals
posted under mistletoes waitin till you come home.
the work comin cheap i know that light isnt free.
still a part of me sings despite to spite the powers at be.
yesterday we saw ghost youre living in his home.
charlie died slow, his heart broke in the cold.
your neighbor told the story how the wife died before and him all alone,
pained seeped floor,
his heart couldnt take it, and finally caved in
we burned a little sage and told charlie we would pray and
hate see him this way,
stuck in a space tied to to trauma stuck and chained.
he left a little duck, a red ceramic totem,
we took to the lake and cast it out in the open,
hopin that his ties to earth would fold and could he go and,
be with his lover, beyond this house to another.
i think about you often chuck,
i pray that youre free.
i saw you in a dream, all alone or was that me?
the things we do for love i hope in all u can see,
that what you had was so unique.
i can only dream to find a love so full and free,
one that'd take me too if my partner went to sleep