why did I turn out the way I did?
Things happened when I was too young to remember.
Things happened when I was too young to remember.
Memory’s like being lost in the
timber
after the deer and rabbits have all fled.
When I cast my gaze back from my bleak September,
after the deer and rabbits have all fled.
When I cast my gaze back from my bleak September,
my earliest days are dimmed in
slumber—
nothing takes shape for me to love or dread
that happened when I was too young to remember.
nothing takes shape for me to love or dread
that happened when I was too young to remember.
It’s like when you have to row
a tender
out to the main ship hulking in the red
dawn of a bleak September
out to the main ship hulking in the red
dawn of a bleak September
morning, sun rising in cold
splendor;
then you stagger wet and scared onto the beachhead,
armed to fight ghosts you’re too old to remember;
then you stagger wet and scared onto the beachhead,
armed to fight ghosts you’re too old to remember;
you might catch a glimpse of
something lithe and tender,
flashing like some hope you left for dead
a million years before this bleak September
day. You loved somebody once, but now you can’t remember.
flashing like some hope you left for dead
a million years before this bleak September
day. You loved somebody once, but now you can’t remember.
