The melody is the same,
For when we forgot their name.
For when we lost to mundane.
For when we finally changed.
For we lost the same.
Dusty trap with wifi on.
Funeral song so Goddamn long.
Four inch screen, Eulogy.
It was mine.
It was theirs.
It was ours.
It was a time when we crashed.
Red and white and broken bones.
We had to explain ourselves through satellite phones.
And my cantor changed.
I didn’t know she’d noticed it.
I heard the oddity.
Held like some strange commodity.
But everything had changed.
Commodity like Na’gam Bult’e.
Like nyanya, like nyanya.
Oddly almost the same.
Eventually lost,
Entire languages,
We’re all the same.
Ten thousand miles,
Like seasons but,
I know we’re just letters away.
CURB 