When we go, let’s go like this:
Hands across our hearts
Tied in the shape of “I wouldn’t have it any other way”,
Singing loudly,
Letting the dead know we are coming to shake things up.
When we go, let’s go like a cheap bucket of “Hallelujah”,
The last bead on the rosary.
Upright, with swagger.
Let’s let it wash over us like truth.
We are the last of the great rock and roll kids,
All action and no talk.
Three chords and no decoration.
We are the romance in the struggle.
We are dust
Waiting to be stars.
Wait long enough, and
Salvation will come.
In the shape of four-year old wrists,
It will come quiet, like Grace.
I am no longer waiting. Amen.
So, when we go,
Let’s go the way great rock and roll kids were born to:
With fire in our teeth, and
Piano wire in our bones.
This is not a baptism.
This is an exorcism.
Non-refundable recovery.
Angelic runaways
Finally going Home.
