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Versurile Death Cab For Cutie - Styrofoam Plates
Versuri Styrofoam Plates
There's a saltwater film on the jar of your
ashes; I threw them to the sea,
but a gust blew them backwards and the sting in
my eyes
that you then inflicted was par for the course
just as when you were living.
It's no stretch to say you were not quite a
father
but the donor of seeds to a poor, single mother
that would raise us alone.
We never saw the money that went down your throat
through the hole in your belly.
Thirteen years old in the subsurbs of Denver,
standing in line for Thanksgiving dinner at the
Catholic church.
The servers wore crosses to shield from the
sufferance plaguing the others.
Styrofoam plates, cafeteria tables,
charity reeks of cheap wine and pity and I'm
thinking of you,
I do every year when we count all our blessings
and wonder what we're doing here.
You're a disgrace to the concept of family.
The priest won't divulge that fact in his homily
and I'll stand up and scream if in the mourning
remain quiet,
you can deck out a lie in a suit.
But I won't buy it.
I won't join the procession that's speaking their
peace,
using five dollar words while praising his
integrity.
Just 'cause he's gone, it doesn't change that
fact:
he was bastard in life, thus a bastard in death.
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