hideous as it is.
I can take my popped balloon out of the jar.
I can take my popped balloon out of the jar.
My chair is a far
berth from Mycenae
and the Trojan War.
berth from Mycenae
and the Trojan War.
But there’s a fair prospect
from here—
two windows, a dresser, a cat-tree.
What more
two windows, a dresser, a cat-tree.
What more
is there to wish for? I share
songs, like “Hide You in the Blood of Je-
sus,” or “When I Wake to Sleep No More.”
songs, like “Hide You in the Blood of Je-
sus,” or “When I Wake to Sleep No More.”
I can lie on my bed of rest and
snore,
I can let the dead lie where they lie.
I can wake up and sit in my chair. But nary a day
I can let the dead lie where they lie.
I can wake up and sit in my chair. But nary a day
goes by when I don’t think of you, my dear—
the sky
keeps us in touch from where you are
to my seat here in my chair.
the sky
keeps us in touch from where you are
to my seat here in my chair.
