Lyrics

O Lordy, give me some more time,
I’m trying to write something sublime.
You Reaper, stay away from here,
Though you’re nothing that I fear,
I just need a few more days to find my rhyme.

O Doctor, give me one more day,
I’ve still got things I have to say.
You Specter, step back from my door,
I’ve got just a little more
To write a proper ending to my story.

I’ll be ready to be taken
When my words have all forsaken me
And I’ve got nothing left at all to add.

My gnarled fingers tremble
Not from cold
But from the ages.
They clutch the stubborn pen,
Whose nib is rolled
Upon the pages,
Making thoughts into scrawled words,
Which soar aloft like songful birds.

O Jailor, give me one more hour,
I want to have a little power
To give my readers what I’ve writ,
To move the world a bit
And leave a legacy that’s more than sand.

My will shall not be shaken,
But when my words have all forsaken me
Then I’ll have nothing left at all to add.

My paragraphs, unfettered,
Explode across
The tattered paper.
Ideas fly helter-skelter
Until they’re lost
In dreamlike vapor.
But some are caught in well-turned phrases,
Earning my admirers’ praises.

So when my journey’s undertaken
And my mind has reawakened,
I want to find my story has been told.

Even though I’ve lost my fight here,
I hope my name will become brighter
And my epitaph will read:
“Here lies a writer.”