she always puts me first...

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How many dismal funerals...more than I can count
but even casket counting has a limited amount
How many shall I attend as the shovels close the door
Regardless of the number, there will always be one more
Dressed in Sunday's best as they roll my final stone
for we all have reservations when the funeral's our own...

Teardrops on a headstone, yo...there I go again
"What in the world is wrong with you?!"...where do I begin
Dancing among the graves as I'm frolicking in death
Wails echo softly after laughter on my breath
A madman, sadly, finds some joyous times in sleep
for many happy recollections are now six...feet...deep...
The reflection on the marker mirrors moisture in my eyes
Whispering dead goodbyes of alibis and lullabies
Leaving wreaths on the doorstep where the flowers used to grow
'cause God chose to close that rose a long time ago
Now my memories are bleeding from the thorns that pierce my mind
I remember that she loved me when she left me far behind
A votive candlebox now filled with rocks becomes the key
for it unlocks the shackles living deep inside of me
The chains and the rains as the pains begin to scream
My head tossing on my pillow, weeping willow, see my dream
Fragmented pieces of her own pain now at peace
My heartbeat increases, decreases, my spirit wants release
I reach my hand out, about to touch her fingertips
only to awaken, shaken, her name taken from my lips
Instead I feel her finger gently shushing all my screams
"Mikey, look around...you're already living all your dreams..."

My mother was always at her best when I was at my worst
and even deep in sleep...she always puts me first...
 

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