Stephan Nance
Immunodeficiency
Trouble is,Nowadays,We go walking in the rainProtected by our plastic parasols.From the mistsTo the waves,We don't think we ever will implode again,The mighty leaden rollers rushing in to kill us all.But the ships are swiftly sinking,And the submarine in which I amSequestering myselfIs failing to produce a proper answer.I'm thinking to myself,I'm telling me that deftly I'll beGiving my advice to all the world, thatThe cells we're in are splittingSo it's looking likeIt's likely that it's cancer.You looked sweetStanding there,Smiling at me sleepilySuspiciously like someone who is dead.SongtexteShake the sheets,Let 'em air,We'll go down in historyConspicuously grinning like the cat who's in the story life we've led.And the ships are softly sighingAs the sedimental seafloor saysA prayer to bring them homeAnd sings a sullen cradle song of death.I'm thinking to myself,I'm telling me that certainly weHaven't got the heart to tell the world thatThe tumors are malignant,So the time is comingWhen we'll breathe our last breath.From the start,Where was I?I was not the kind of guyTo look a fading flower in the eye.Cross your heart,Hope to die,Hope to soon be sailing smoothly heaven-high,Surrounded by the seabirds as they skim the starless sky.
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