Never Think About Life
November 2, 1987
"The essentials to happiness are something to love, something to do, and something to hope."
- William Blake (1757-1827)
Never write about love
Or the hurt that you feel
for it comes back to haunt you in the autumn of your life
Mama, where is my heart?
Is it a blackened and pitted void?
Am I only just a heathen for all love to avoid?
Never wonder about life
Or the shortness you feel as the years pass you by
Autumn comes quickly and stabs deeper than knives
Mother, where are my wings?
Are they burned, or singed or destroyed?
Am I as unwelcomed as the dread we employ?
Mother, my songs are a quick trip to death
I want them all to feel my sting
Crushing young hearts which only feel love
And sinners you feel you have saved
Never think about life
Or walk away from the noise
Something is always closing in from behind
Mama, am I blind?
Are my eyes swollen and closed?
I guess there is less here than I supposed
Never cry in your sleep
or wake up angry with life
Suddenly one morning awakes you
A cloud beside you
and a harp and an angel to ride