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let me write you a lyric
a song if you will
of tombstones and graveyards
out -- up on the hill.
A man, age eighty one
and a girl who could've run.
Jeff with a shot to his head
and Sadie, much too young to be dead.
When you're new, you're a sight to be seen
marble clean and flowers fresh
your words still know a touch or a breath.
ten, twenty, fifty pass
grass over grown -- mud on the stone.
body drained of blood,
name drained of meaning,
much would come from a wholehearted cleaning.