Even the Good Wood Gone

And when I woke up, I woke up stiff and grey already
Posed in sleep by something, half my cells made stone
Wrists and ankles crossed at a vulnerable angle
And when I woke up, well I woke up alone

As the only former pharaoh present
In a shoddy school museum collection

Looted of gold, if there ever was some
And even the good wood gone
Remaining fingers curled around the memory of a rod
Left not even with my death mask on
Heart and other organs missing for so long
Features faded and dated in estimation
And even the good wood gone

Drunk off a leak in the ceiling
Some mantra stuck on my lips in vain

No flash photography
No flash photography
No flash photography

And when I'm really buried, I'll be buried in Cleveland
With a new pair of skis and someone's old set of keys to their car
And bottom floor apartment door and health club locker
Throw the scent of my true purpose from god and grave robbers

My true purpose which I will have taken the care to have kept hidden even from myself my whole life

No flash photography
No flash photography
No flash photography

Already grey and rehearsing my mantra
Left hand gripping hockey stick or cattle prod
My final futile act of double deception
Aloof and tinged with truth as the best lies are
As I've always shot pool south paw
And many of you who knew me saw