Songs About Grief
My trade is mislaid love,
The passion of the doomed-to-die.
I exchange their confusion for knowledge,
Their contentment for contention,
And the peddlers of death, the hawkers of grief, my allies.
We nod hello each morning we pass each other
To set along the road our stalls and carts.
We share our business, good neighbors,
No sense in getting greedy.
There is pain enough to pass around in our world.
There are children who leave and friends filled with venom.
But they are not my wares.
I sell and trade and sing of mislaid love
To break bones, sweet and secret,
To close the eyes to the person who can know you.
I make the draft that you sip each morning,
Idly chattering with your lover,
And the poison curls against your heart and waits.
The passion of the doomed-to-die.
I exchange their confusion for knowledge,
Their contentment for contention,
And the peddlers of death, the hawkers of grief, my allies.
We nod hello each morning we pass each other
To set along the road our stalls and carts.
We share our business, good neighbors,
No sense in getting greedy.
There is pain enough to pass around in our world.
There are children who leave and friends filled with venom.
But they are not my wares.
I sell and trade and sing of mislaid love
To break bones, sweet and secret,
To close the eyes to the person who can know you.
I make the draft that you sip each morning,
Idly chattering with your lover,
And the poison curls against your heart and waits.