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Run Through The Fields Of Heaven
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January - June 2005 The sun still shines,
This warning heat
Continously reminds me of
Your absence.
You'd be sat out in your red apron,
Counting clouds and washing windows,
Doing whatever you could to make yourself feel young again.
As you as you were in your mind.
Remembering you like that is what gets me by.
Remembering that in your mortal body,
Your young, free spirit was trapped.
In death you are free.
Run through the fields of Heaven.
Cook all of the angel so much food that they drop out of the sky,
Becoming mortal in their gluttony,
Telling me that it was you who cause them to sin with your angelic dishes,
But they were thankful for every mouthful.
Run and shout and eat and be free.
Run. To your Papa.
He was taken from you much earlier than you were from me.
Run and look down on your family.
Run.
But please don't forget about me.
