Dylan Thomas (1996–1998)

Well, I never knew your story, but I stand before your grave.
I have been stumbling, bewildered, in a daze.
The pages of my youth that I so carelessly cut loose,
If I’d held them harder, they would still have got away.
There’s a page for every day, containing watermelon seeds;
A page for dressing up and jumping off the roof.
I’ll fold them well enough to float in shapes of little paper boats,
And I’ll let ‘em go, and I will send them off to you.
In my recurring dream, I’m in a play, but I don’t seem
To know my lines, and I can never find the script.
But when my curtain call comes, I wanna know I was someone
Who found a way to just let go of all that shit.
Hoo-ooh-hoo-ooh-ooh,
Hoo-ooh-hoo-ooh-ooh-ooh.
Well, I never knew your story, but I stand before your grave:
It feels abandoned, like the halls you never walked.
I was gawky; I was scared; a little awkward, but I was there,
And I’ll be damned if I let go of that thought.
You never did lose money on a tour of Illinois;
You’d have been grateful for the traffic and the rain.
You never got to get your heart crushed in a blender by a boy
When you got home again, so who am I to complain?
And in my recurring dream, I’m in a play, but I don’t seem
To know my lines, and I can never find the script.
But when my curtain call comes, I wanna know I was someone
Who found a way to just let go of all of that shit.
Hoo-ooh-hoo-ooh-hoo,
Hoo-ooh-hoo-ooh-hoo-hoo.
Hoo-ooh-hoo-ooh-hoo,
Hoo-ooh-hoo-ooh-hoo-hoo.
Suppose your parents were poets since they named you Dylan Thomas,
But you never got to rage against the dying of the light.
So I shall ride with your ghost and all those poets who died young.
No, I am no unlucky one.
And I know now what I owe, and I shall speak it in your name:
It’s to drink freely from that well and not dwell one more day in the walls of shame.
And the pages of my youth, I will no longer grieve;
I’ll send them off to you, my friend, with watermelon seeds.
And in my recurring dream, I’m in a play, and I don’t seem
To know my lines, so I’ll just make them up.
And when my curtain call comes, you best believe I was someone
Who found a way to let in all of that love.
In my recurring dream, I’m in a play, but I don’t seem
To know my lines, so I’ll just make them up.
And when my curtain call comes, you best believe I was someone
Who found a way to let in all of that love.
A way to let in all of that lo-lo-lo-love,
All of that love.
A way to let in all of that lo-lo-lo-love,
All of that love.