HIS LAST WORDS
(Rick Springfield) |
My father was too weak to parry the blade
As death's scythe swept through the house one night, as we were busy doing other things
Dust filled his mouth and stopped his breath
And darkness took his soul in this familiar place
His body wasted by the sickness
His spirit weary from the battle, he spoke to me, forever his son
Of all things save death
I longed to face it with him but seeing his fear
I feared to speak of it, and though we both saw
Death's dark irresistible form in the far corner
We talked instead of evening shadows on bedroom walls
And so it went, there were no proud and profound last words
No bright ringing final moment of clarity, he just died, we kissed his still warm face
And promised forever
The cold wind blew through the trees in my father's yard
And I looked for meaning...
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