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When I'm lying in my bed
I like to pretend
That my body is just bones on the beach
It's the first time I feel rested
Since my mother's womb I slept in
My last home between the stones and the sea
Some overzealous anthropology professor
With all his students in tow
Carry spades and books for studying
Stumbling, discover me
I implore them to leave me alone.
Say, give me one millennia more there
Maybe I will belong more there
Than any place in which I was living
When I'm bones on the beach.
With the end long past nigh one eternal sigh
I've no breath that is left to release
And the loudness of mind has been gone since I died
Was I meant in this life to find peace?
Before I became bones on the beach.
I hear footsteps
And bones they cannot look left
But I register her stepping nearby
Her face is peaceful
She's looked upon life's evil
And considered it next to infinite skies
She doesn't ask for more time.
Give me one millennia more there
Maybe I will belong more there
Than any place in which I was living
When I'm bones on the beach
When I'm bones on the beach.
Death won't bring what you think it will
Death won't bring what you think it will.
What I long for's nonexistent
In any belief system
All I, all I want is some rest
There's no sentience in death
Just the darkness at the worst
Temporality and permanence
I don't know what's on the other side
But I don't think it's what I had in mind
I hope I find some rest in this life.
Death won't bring what you hope it will
Death won't bring what you think it will
Death won't bring what you think.
Album
 Bones On The BeachMore music by Paris Paloma
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