the sad heart of the sad boy/girl girl/boy in love with the opposite hopeless they sit in the cemetary and weave their hands over their heart hoping to fall like the needles in the pines surrounding them to burrow into the ground they wish to escape but they can't escape unless it's the fall and it's not the fall unless it comes to you or unless you make your own fall to swan dive swan divinity diefied as the transport with which to cure the suffering heart that sits in a shell on a granite slab a stranger's name carved underneath and black wrapped around so miserable that black alone does not do you justice a celebration of melancholy but with no celebrating halloween all the time everyday is the lyric isn't it but halloween because you wear a mask all the time a mask of life that you do not want to wear but unable to fall you/they/he/she

stares upward at the pines and imagine gettysburg if you can with

its thousands of unindentified dead young men leaving young women behind to lie under pine trees already fallen over a hundred years ago now abutted by cheap motels and rocks cut and carved dedicated by the melencholy president in his despair the black lank of figure and form his fingers long holding a lost copy and reading short and hated furrows his brow unhappy on a train unloved but then on a train revered seen as a ghost that the unhappy can only wish to be but they only die alone and noone hears about it suicides in bathrooms and bedrooms the unknown fade more never for good reason but for every reason it is then the perfect season the falling season.