Spring, 2008, Detroit

Winter came and went like any other year,
except for the record snow.
We spent Saturdays working on the theater;
had a ball sledding up north.
Made a last-minute dash down to Asheville, I'll tell ya,
they know what time it is down there.
I knew we were bringing back something,
if only that sweet southern air.
I'll admit, I thought we'd made it.
The solstice fell on a weekend, besides.
That week a man I looked up to
decided to take his own life.
And there's no good time for tragedy;
there's no such thing as easy grief.
Yeah, so sometimes what you feel
comes out in ways you can't even believe.
It was a bad time for everyone.
It was a worse time for some.
What I thought was an end
was also a beginning.
Hell, it was Spring!
It seemed things might settle down,
I found myself surfing hospital beds.
I was laid out for weeks,
would be gettin out and going right back in again.
It was April and some friends dug out four beds in a vacant city lot.
What are friends for?
To kick off the new garden we'd spent all winter planning for.
We had a May Day parade to Belle Isle on bikes.
Set a small ship on fire as a proper goodbye.
Friends made concerned visits from out of state
and we fell asleep by bonfires while the nights were still cold.
And the gardens, damn, they were looking good.
And all our minor transgressions, well, they were understood.
And anywhere you looked things looked better.
It was almost June
and Detroit was in bloom!
So a plague of rains had us heathens givin' thanks
to the angry god we don't even believe in.
Bloomington had us talkin' 'bout buyin' land;
Paging through picture books, homes made by hand.
Sickness can be a pitch black night
when you're on a roller coaster.
Like riding down these broken side streets
where the street lights are just ornamental.
And, so, about my disappearance,
well you wouldn't want to hear it anyway.
No, 'cause it breaks most taboos on the books.
And the medical jargon don't mean much of anything.
No, If I must give a word so it'll make some more sense,
Well that shit was boy scouts, I mean like in tents.
And I'm glad it's kind of over
But it never, no, it never really ends.
Just like an old crow is never really dead.
And we hoped that the night would not come
And we hoped that the night would not come
And we hoped that the night would not come
But it came
Anyway
(Above repeated x5 times)
And we hoped that the night would not come
And we hoped that the night would not come
And we hoped that the night would not come
But it came, and it stayed.