Coda Lyrics

The bird's nest hung high from the rafter

The high winds and hard ground spelled disaster

The flapping didn't stop him from falling faster

The picture would stay clear forever after

The blade I used was old and faded

The strike missed twice, but lacerated

The grave was shallow, I dug unaided but the cut dug deeper

Than the hole I spaded

One day you think that every puzzle piece fits neatly into place

That every child has life written on their face

But come to find that the pieces, they don't align

The picture you saw was wrong the whole time

So you start to think, "How can I sit and watch death make

Sick jokes of every opportunity that life creates?

How can I put the pieces back together without mistake?

And how long will it take?"

I saw the father and his children at play

I had to leave, I had to look away

I saw the moments that I squandered in disarray

I saw each time I said I loved you as you decayed

Those precious moments

Moments of pressure and relief

I see them now, only I see them through the eyes of grief

I saw your eyes in the bird that died

I saw your smile as I cried

And as I drive

I see your face in strangers teeth

It gets me high to see your face only to relapse in defeat

But now I've realized that death is not a hunter

Not some predator lying in wait to pull me under

No, death is but the curious blunder of life and reproduction

A folly that cannot be sustained without outnumbering

The resources necessary for consumption

And no, I cannot lie in wait for fear of my destruction

For surely it will come for me and when it does

What stories will they tell of me?

How will they remember me?

What reason and rhyme can I pass on

When all I do is spend my time whining and running

From my fear of dying?

I know that I won't waste any more moments

Crying out to the sky and wishing you were here again

So I could tell you all the reasons that I hated why I loved you

I'll have to put that behind me if

I want to keep any semblance of sanity

Irreplaceable, you were to me

But death is just another part of

Having something dear to me

And when it comes down to it

Every symphony has to end

And that's the beauty of it

And that's the beauty of it

And as I drive

I see your face in strangers teeth

It gets me high to see your face only to relapse in defeat

And though the leaves

They mark the path along the street

I will not follow, for I know exactly where they lead

Father and Fighter, living in absence

Lover and Writer, now just fragments