Max Tundra

Number Our Days

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Nothing happens when you die
You don't leave your body or fly off into the sky
The day it is you count on were just made up by some guy

Nothing happens when I cry
Reminds me of the time I called you up to say goodbye
A pint of chicken soup comes falling from my eye

It's the lens of isolation I declare
Your engineering knocks me out of my share
If mechanicals observe of what we are
Then number our days and point me to the car

Nothing happens by degrees
Your thought if summer-fall is hidden by the trees
My great assessor always said you were a tease

Nothing happens every year
I scare a few more people off by saying 'dear'
What if it turned out my companionship is fear

It's the sentimental minute in your hands
Fills your Januarys with my plans
This is why we leave our ancestors alone
Then number our days and lead me to the car

Autor(es): Ben Jacobs