long live our dying friend!
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in the birth of his hand was the dirge of his end.
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cold now in a warming world
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still cold as the moment we're hanging frozen in.
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writer of words, channel of fear.
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lover of life, hater of living here.
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come over the hills now, to your darling.
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dead voices are near now, hear them calling.
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vibrations reverberate,
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in waves from a point in time and a place.
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tune in and you feel them sent.
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and all time is right now - what do we learn from him, then?
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go look to his words, dont look to his past.
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the story goes on, the players are recast.
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come over the hills now, to your darling.
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dead voices are near now, hear them calling.
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what part of a million could call him a friend?
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but maybe one in a thousand finds something to comiserate in.
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and if that one is you, then what do you see?
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what would you say to have saved him,
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and ooh, won't you say it to save me?
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the streets are deserted, the bars are the same.
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one voice of the living: the town crier is calling your name.
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Dead Voices
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| Ted Leo & The Pharmacists |
