We'Re All Dead - Poem by Patti Masterman
running your panacea for all that ails;
well run away then, fare well
I would not hold you against your will
in the land of the dead and the home of the still.
once all was bright and lively here;
those were days not to be forgot
and if it's become a graveyard, well you know
the tombstones they won't tell.
take your ringing freedoms, that you crave;
funny I had figured you for brave
but you could never fit words to the song
said you'd never hang around too long.
nothing around here seems to change;
and people may whisper we seem strange
that we're all a bit touched in the head;
that may well be, but you know- we're all dead.
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