You were the last high

        I can tell a lot about the lows

the ‘Lowlands are home to me now’

I don’t feel blue and I don’t feel desperate

I just ‘don’t feel’

 

No more, nevermore, forever more.

And it’s not sad and it’s not depressive,

just that in your aftermath there was nothing

left of the heart and thangs and stuff

 

In general, that makes living great.

It’s a grenadine of a life, cool as a cucumber,

in certain religions hell is made of ice,

I wish I didn’t remember in the refrigerator,

the touch of your skin.

 

You were the last high

and it’s a hell of a life,

The rest of it all to remember

what it felt for grass to graze and grow with my heart.