Tiger Lou An Atlas Of Those Our Own
A thousand voices weep and moan.
As we burn the parts of those our own,
We burn the parts
And as the flames so brightly shine.
We followed the ashes, followed the ashes,
Follow the ashes into the unknown.
Words of parting heartfelt and dear.
Resonates loudly from our group of peers.
But as the night grows ever so near.
One by one the memories,
One by one they disappear.
These are the absolute.
Single spaced and neatly proofed.
So how does it make you feel?
Does it make you tick like I do?
Where is it you want me to be?
What is it you want me to say?
Nothing, not a single thing.
These simple words
linger like fate.
Trying to prove
our answers of late.
The noise of our homes
the wiping of slates.
Keeps me away from the pearly gates.
We'll celebrate, sing you a song
dance on your grave.
And every drink will be a toast
remembering your name.
So look for a place where
there's no way your eyes could ever reach.
Look for a place where
there's no way your eyes could ever reach.
I will await
I will await.
