[Verse 1]
But I don't believe in ghosts or anything, I know that you are gone and that I'm carrying some version of you around
Some untrustworthy old description in my memories
And that must be your ghost taking form, created every moment by me dreaming you so
And is it my job now to hold whatever's left of you for all time? And to re-enact you for our daughter's life?
[Verse 2]
I do remember when I was a kid and realized that life ends and is just over; that a point comes where we no longer get to say or do anything
And then what? I guess just forgotten
And I said to my mom that I hoped to do something important with my life
Not be famous, but just remembered a little more, to echo beyond my actual end
And my mom laughed at this kid trying to wriggle his way out of mortality, of the final inescapable feral scream
But I held that hope and grew up wondering what dying means
Unsatisfied, ambitious and squirming
[Verse 3]
The first dead body I ever saw in real life, was my great-grandfather's
Embalmed in a casket in Everett, in a room by the freeway
Where they talked me into reading a thing from the Bible
About walking through a valley in the shadow of death
But I didn't understand the words, I thought of actually walking through a valley in a shadow, with a backpack and a tent
But that dead body next to me spoke clear and metaphor-free
[Verse 4]
In December 2001 after having spent the summer and fall traveling mostly alone around
The country that was spiraling into war and mania, little flags were everywhere
I was living on the periphery as a twenty-three-year-old wrapped up in doing what I wanted
And it was music and painting on newsprint
And eating all the fruit from the tree like Tarzan, or Walt Whitman Voracious, devouring life, singing my songs
Sleeping in yards without asking permission
But I don't believe in ghosts or anything, I know that you are gone and that I'm carrying some version of you around
Some untrustworthy old description in my memories
And that must be your ghost taking form, created every moment by me dreaming you so
And is it my job now to hold whatever's left of you for all time? And to re-enact you for our daughter's life?
[Verse 2]
I do remember when I was a kid and realized that life ends and is just over; that a point comes where we no longer get to say or do anything
And then what? I guess just forgotten
And I said to my mom that I hoped to do something important with my life
Not be famous, but just remembered a little more, to echo beyond my actual end
And my mom laughed at this kid trying to wriggle his way out of mortality, of the final inescapable feral scream
But I held that hope and grew up wondering what dying means
Unsatisfied, ambitious and squirming
[Verse 3]
The first dead body I ever saw in real life, was my great-grandfather's
Embalmed in a casket in Everett, in a room by the freeway
Where they talked me into reading a thing from the Bible
About walking through a valley in the shadow of death
But I didn't understand the words, I thought of actually walking through a valley in a shadow, with a backpack and a tent
But that dead body next to me spoke clear and metaphor-free
[Verse 4]
In December 2001 after having spent the summer and fall traveling mostly alone around
The country that was spiraling into war and mania, little flags were everywhere
I was living on the periphery as a twenty-three-year-old wrapped up in doing what I wanted
And it was music and painting on newsprint
And eating all the fruit from the tree like Tarzan, or Walt Whitman Voracious, devouring life, singing my songs
Sleeping in yards without asking permission
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