Each day when I wander this way and that,
The charm of sweet nature, it speaks to me,
With eyes shot with marvel I stop and stare,
Transfixed instance of hope, set to flutter free.
But 'gainst this mortal coil hope strains its wings,
My heart it lifts to a transient peak,
A short, sharp second of this sweet recourse,
Then the ground is gone from under my feet.
No place, no drive, no unerring focus,
There is nothing that grounds this wayward heart,
And so I walk, I watch, I wait and hope,
I am Mev, I am Mev, I play my part.
(He Lied About Death)
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