but don’t you see what’s happening to us here?
something evil is pursuing us
what am i doing in a cemetery?
what am i doing in a cemetery?
but don’t you see what’s happening?
something evil is pursuing us
something evil is pursuing us
to destroy us
i’m tired i tell ya’
i’m too tired to sleep
i’m tired i tell ya’
too tired to eat, i’m too tired to sleep
i am so tired
and i want to die
i want to die
i am so tired
and i want to die
i want to die
i want to die
no
i remember now
it’s a dream
all this is just a dream
just a dream
just a dream
you can wake up out of a dream
i will wake up
i’ve got to wake up
wake up, wake up
i’ve got to wake up
oh
no
i remember now
it’s a dream
all this is just a dream
just a dream
just a dream
you can wake up out of a dream
i will wake up
why…can’t i wake up?
it’s just a dream
a dream
always at this moment i’ve been able to wake up
i’ve got to wake up, i’ve got to wake up
i’m not dreaming
i’ll never wake up
out of this
dream
i’m dead
grief
is an artist
of powers as various as the instruments
upon which he plays his dirges
for the dead
evoking from some the sharpest, shrillest notes
from others the low, grave chords
that throb recurrent
like the slow beating
of a distant drum
grief
is an artist
of powers as various as the instruments
upon which he plays his dirges
for the dead
evoking from some the sharpest, shrillest notes
from others the low, grave chords
that throb recurrent
like the slow beating
of a distant drum
some natures it startles
some it stupefies
to one it comes like the stroke of an arrow
stinging all the sensibilities
to a keener life
to another as the blow of a bludgeon, which in crushing
benumbs
grief
is an artist