Happy are the dead folks..

manic mornings and bloody wrists
should not get me so far
in the sunshine and in the mist
shines the same my dear scar

and in the midst of all the fallings
shall my heart find a way to revoke,
to withdraw itself from all beatings
for I know how happy are the dead folks

when I’m gone and happy in decay
you will know that I’ve found a way
a way out of all this madness
and I shall not linger another day

Broken limbs and torn entrails
shall welcome my happy days
and my parting sadness must unveil
a bleeding nose and a blackening face

Remember my face from the night before
and excuse the bloody mess I’ve made
and all my blood and all my gore
shall, My darling, find you unafraid

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