I'm weary with my former toil, here I will sit and rest awhile

My heritage washed over me like beer and whiskey,
glowing wet green
celebrating with the best of them, just chairs
in a circle and a dark room
because it's more rock and roll.
I sang a bittersweet Irish lullaby until
he cried in the crook of my arm.
"she died of a fever, and no one could save her.."
i have the voice of a raged Celtic princess,
a sad madness in the eye.

Once upon a timeless moment, someone made up time
and cogs tug forward behind our minds
suprachiasmatic nuclei
just keep your eyes open, stare into the light.
Tim Kinsella could go on about how the dawn of time
is the dawn of life in some aspect
but the mysteries give us the beauty and mystery
of the confusion, our primary blessing.
for we don't know the who what when where and why
we are.

so i sit here dumbfounded, like when
you stare into a mirror too long -
when you start to believe the soul is separate from the body
because how the fuck could this be you, you know.
just a little thing in a big universe
both jaded and so surprised.
When i feeeeel aaaalive, i try to imagine a careless liiffe
a scenic woorrrrld where the sunsets are all
breathtaking.
And Death kids around when he rolls up on his big black motorcycle,
throws you on the back, takes you to the largest smokestack in Pittsburgh
and you start your life suspended 300 ft in the air, staring back at
a maniac.
Then you listen to iron and wine
Then you stop doing what you think you should be doing,
who would have thought?

I eat this culture, It turns retrograde
replicating, a part of my bastardized DNA
but nothing comes from nothing
and I am everything.

it's as simple as that