Death my old friend

There's a lake on the poisonous mountain
Where death himself comes to cry
I mention I'll listen to his haunted memories, but on his breath they all seem to die

There's a tree up there on the mountain that's anointed with our salty tears,
It's adorned by the broken hearts of young women,
And has refused to flower for years

There's galleries of fear in our tear drops
Where the dead lie forever still,
There's a painting of seven cold faces
Where the light of love's never been

There's an abstracted boat in a rain storm
With invisible jesus tied to the mast,
and a landscape so barren it's broken 
Full of fragments gleaned from our pasts

And the bar that we frequent is emptied
by celebrities with their bad reviews,
A one man band on stage is sinking, way beyond what we'd call the blues

And we hum along with him softly
Even though we don't know the tunes

The moon has forgotten us completely
She refuses to light up the bay
And as we stagger inward with our garlands of tears 
Death and I still have nothing to say