most of my favorite singers
are dead
their heavy lives now
weightless,
jaded anarchy now in step
to the binding laws of afterlife
whatever they may be
their lives taken too early
by self or circumstance
now wailing in a room of echoes
the questions that haunt
without answers
yes death, you win again
take the singers, the poets
the voices of strangers
i’ve come to know
you always win
i am still soothed by the
company i’ve gathered
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