He goes out walking to escape the thought,
His beard is a bramble in which he is caught.
Blackberries bleed onto his fingers as he takes off a shoe,
Feels the certainty of certainty cutting through.
And analgesia seeps from the sleeping soil,
As the evening sun burns beetles backs and makes the brain boil.
His beard is the bramble home to all the words
That sing silent in the sunset like the sighing of the birds
Who sing

Life is just a pause between the curtain and the applause
And love is a mirror of the pain it will cause

Worms they hold his counsel as they pull below the ground,
Grave little ministers devouring the sound.
Beetles bite and burrow as he lies against the tree
But if there's someone in there with him - it's no one he can see
Because his mind is wound with ivy and the path is overgrown,
So he unties his tie and lies as silent as a stone.
And no one saw him live and no one saw him stop.
And the world will stay spinning and the leaves will still drop
Singing

Life is just a pause between the curtain and the applause
And love is a mirror of the pain it will cause

Now there's seeds in his belly and spiders in his teeth,
And his body bends the bushes pushing up from underneath
The canopy of root and branch reformed into a mouth -
Words fly up to heaven - birds are flying south.
And he can feel the sap rising in his veins.
And the certainty of certainty is born of doubt and pain.
And beetles bite and burrow in the body that once was
And dignity asks questions and the answer is - "just because..."

Life is just a pause between the curtain and the applause
And love is a mirror of the pain it will cause.