Adam Watts
Spending hours and days
Throwing shovels full of dirt on the grave
of the dearly departed version one of me
No pastor, no friend, no priest
No one to give the eulogy
An invisible life, I guess . . .
Deserves an equally invisible death
Reborn. Reborn again. Reborn
Reborn. Reborn again. Reborn
Bending nails on grace
Swinging hammers was the work of yesterday
I'm so clearly not the blur I used to be
So much deeper a red my blood
My heart is not the shallow place it was
An unthinkable winds my clock
and now I'm living life
Reborn. Reborn again. Reborn
Reborn. Reborn again. Reborn