All of those things both worthy to dread and
not, the history of liaisons and destiny, the
storied markers of people who passed - make
me nothing but confused. My own ways are
less winning, and my father spoke a foreign
tongue with a mouthful of tacks. I was forced
to listen. It doesn't frighten me that I expect
people to die : suicide and subdivision, all the
same to me. Live like a pirate and die like a
bum. Oh just run it on over the roaring sea.
Once there were men in the wine-dark sea.
They cried for each other; they cried for me.