Pericardial Effusion; Or, IF I LIVE (with friends) — fourthwallace

Original song with many friends.

Soundcloud: https://soundcloud.com/fourthwallace/pericardial-effusion
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Bluebirds from the hospital had always lived in bedroom walls,
took slaughter for me to hear
and waste no time stealing from—

The hollow of my ribcage is a snowstream in a holler, or is it a
ladder from the water—or rather was, if I had died,
buried with my headrest in anaesthetic sleep? If I live,

Please bury me with my headrest when I go.

You’re seeing becoming in process.
Thank you for your patience.
I love you
I love you
“How about child?”

Can I call you anything? But the name that belongs to everyone?
It sounded strange coming from my mouth for cats under cars—

I’ll spare you articulation,
Leave space to write songs about.

Often I’ve left in a Christmas haze from a second home
in a Christmas haste,
swept away a weekend to cupboards and pines,
sewn up a river with birds inside,
by Normans who watch me in seven-heart motels
that carry me to days I’ll behave, I am well.
Coroners keep ruling my heart swollen or punctured,
but why should they decide there’s something wrong with us?
Maybe we'll decide there’s nothing wrong with us.

Why, little lamb, do you hold so tight in goodbye?
You’re too precious to be mine.

Silly, I’d’ve hoped you’d known, would’ve caught the
letters I’ve wondered northward as I funamble sleeping and waking,
all these years and now.

Bury me with my headrest when I go.

Видео Pericardial Effusion; Or, IF I LIVE (with friends) — fourthwallace канала S Wallace