I sit up at night and write down my rainy days br In an effort to end the drought my life has taken br Believing flowers will grow in the cemetery br If I could just get them to take a drink br Plastic flowers pollinated with ash and earth br Smelling of death and dying sentiments br Generational deformity br Takes hold and strangles the life out of me br As the fruit of my tree and loins br Runs down the leg of my family tree br And puddles in the polished shoes br Of some other poor dumb dead bastard br Dressed up in his Sunday best br With pennies under his lids br And maggots in his gut br Eating him inside out as opposed to outside in… br His scars unhealed but preserved by the formaldehyde br He injected in his youthful foolish way br Before he finally understood br That just because it is beautiful br It doesn’t mean it’s good br I sit up at night and write down my rainy days br In an effort to put an end to the drought my life has taken… br br 2007 © T Sheridanbr br Ted Sheridanbr br