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Shane Koyczan
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Heaven, or Whatever
'You can't just do whatever' The words stumbled out of you Like a drunk leaving a bar looking for a fresh new last call You were not a man of words But did your best to offer advice You offered me 'You can't just do whatever' And I know what you meant You meant that whatever I choose to do, I must not be aimless I must not simply spin this globe and go wherever I stick my finger Because 71% of the time I will end up in the ocean And if I do end up in the ocean I can't just do whatever, Better learn to swim
'You can't just do whatever'
The conversation came after you asked me about heaven Told me that you thought heaven would be specific to each person And that each person would have their own version of it Then asked me what mine would be
I was so scared to tell you, 'I don't have one' But you nodded your head, as if confirming a suspicion that school had robbed me of a belief in some stories You said 'you don't have to beleive what I believe, its enough to be good. Be good' I will. I will think about your heaven Your heaven would be the same haircut, forever It would be a stick a dog and some distance A lawn that always needs mowing A six-pack of pills in those short bottles and your real teeth back Because your dentures could never master that bottle opening trick you loved to do The first time you tried it with dentures I had nightmares for a month Because I though your mouth had fallen off Your heaven, would be Austria before the war And Canada after you met grandma It would be head cheese sandwiches and blood sausages Other deli meats that would ensure you would never ever have to entertain dinner guests And I would never be in danger of having my lunch stolen Your heaven, would be a stash of raisins Problems that you could fix with your hands I remember you tried to fix everything with your hands I remember the difficult days I remember the bandages They looked like tiny blankets, as if your knuckles had all gone off to bed Walls that looked like they'd said something to get under your skin And where suddenly made to pay for it I know you were an angry man Finger tips like spent shotgun shells, bleeding smoke cocktails of gunpowder and singed plastic Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com You had what some people would call, 'a temper' But you loved a good joke, even if it was on you Something that would crack open the walls of your chest and let the wind tickle your heart Just enough to let you know it was still there You didn't always laugh, didn't always smile You did keep a mental ledger of what you called your 'send flowers list' I remember thinking it was a thank you to those who got you good But learned the truth after my grandmother added a thin layer of sand to your sandwiches Because you refused to make your own lunch for work You told me about it when you picked me up from school that day You said 'Grandma just made the send flowers list' And I asked 'Because you love her so much?' And you said 'Because I'm gonna kill her' Of course you didn't Your version of kill meant two months before winter, Having a seamstress take in each of her coats a few inches So on the first day she need one She fumbled with the sudden tightness And you stood there smiling then said 'Honey, I love you no matter how big you get' She did not laugh And managed to staple your smile back into a straight face When she told all of your friends at work that you had to move into the spare room Because you couldn't stop farting at night You often asked me 'If I had a heaven, what would it be like?' And I told you that for such a small word, if, is just too big to wrap my belief around I would not bend to the hypothetical But wish now that I would've Even if it was just to ease your mind in the belief That I could be headed to that other place you believed in I would tell you now how my heaven is here It was here, in the gentle warfare of your relationship with Grandma Where volleys were traded back and forth Like hockey cards between children who didn't care what the stats meant My heaven would have been someone in grade five finally willing to trade me their fruit roll up For my tin of sardines My hell was wondering 'why?' Why would you give me sardines for lunch My heaven would make you laugh Cause I get the feeling you didn't get to do that very much Through my hell, through the night terrors and bloody noses Through the eyes black, bruised back, sneak attack, nap sack and winter coat hijacks You did your best to seal up the cracks in my armour and made my heaven here I would have loved to have made you laugh more To make your send flowers list just once So I offer you now my if If there is a heaven Mine would have a post office And I could send letters to yours The first letter would read 'Hell's not so bad, they pretty much let you do whatever'
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