I took a slow and steady saunter on the streets to clear my head,
but the walking and the moving did the opposite instead,
And each footstep shook the sidewalk just enough to raise the dead,
and they rushed in with a force so unforgiving.

And they patted out the rhythm to the cadence of my feet,
as they chanted their mad lyrics
to a melancholy beat,
calling out chaotic choruses,
repeat, repeat, repeat,
As they sang a song of death meant for the living.

I took a stroll through the old neighborhood,
the one I like the most,
And I walked along the path that led me up the eastern coast,
but each footstep on the slate awakened yet another ghost,
and they rushed in with a force so unforgiving.

And they pounded out the rhythm to the cadence of my feet,
As they shouted their mad lyrics
to a melancholy beat,
calling out chaotic choruses,
repeat, repeat, repeat,
As they sang their song of death meant for the living.

I took a hike along the wooded trail to try to clear the haze,
following the ever beaten path,
I looked for the next blaze
but the moving and the searching left me in a manic daze,
that overcame me with a force so unforgiving.

It left me pounding out the rhythm to the cadence of my feet
and shouting frantic lyrics
to an unrelenting beat,
as I screamed and screeched the choruses,
repeat, repeat, repeat,
And I sang the song of death meant for the living.

I can’t pound away emotion,
on the pavement in my head.
I am not an empty vessel
And I won’t be, til I’m dead.
So I sing their song, full throated, and embrace the noise instead.
Life’s an endless song of death,
meant for the living.