I died one time, you know.
It wasn’t like I
Really was dead though; just
A state of
Mind and body whole
Through the glass window
On a broken train track
By a burning house
In the falling skies;
You know.
And how I
Felt,
whoa,
Like nothing I’ve never
Felt before.
So I got up,
Out of my chains,
Out of my coffin,
Out of that cemetery in the jungle,
Out of there,
Out of hell basically,
forever a fool.
Though the landscape I saw
Was well placed,
And evenly matched with the livings’,
I couldn’t stand the smell
In my mouth,
Stuck on my clothes
My way back home.
Took seven days,
A week staggering,
To get up to ground again.
But when I got back,
No one said hello, or waved, or saluted,
Or even asked how the devil was doing this May.
No bother to give respect
To the dead kid at the bus-stop.
Can’t complain about
Being back though, at least
My bed was made
To get a little deserved R.I.P.