When you died, I had feared that your soul,
once released, would not know where to go.
All of our friends, they all wanted to know.
Try as we could, we could not let you go.
There's too many chiefs and not enough indians.
How are we to ensure that you venture from the grave?
So that night, when came the witching hour,
we decided, if it lay within our power,
we should try as hard as we could for some way to summon you.
You appeared, looking just like you'd been.
You said "be not afraid of the holes in my skin".
Every single word you said was like a dagger.
We were all unsure exactly what the matter was,
so we continued asking you what death was like.
But the rising sun, you said, would end you,
and you had to leave us, so I said "Before we send you,
can you tell us anything about the afterlife?"
"We fall in front of trains,
give chains to poor wall sockets,
we dance with weather vanes,
when lightening strikes, we will not die.
Unhealthy habits made
will one day spell disaster,
but if your body breaks,
if your organs fail, you will not die.
Because, I'm unsure what you're asking me for.
How can time choose to only move forward?"
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