Grandfathers Skull

Last night I dreamt of poppa's skull

It was sitting on my desk

Listening to the Red Army Choir

And saying things in jest

And out it's mouth

All the wisdom of the heavens

The clearing of the heart

For the spirit it depends

How ignorance is bliss

When practiced by a fool

And listen to the birds

they will give you every tool

And he handed me a paintbrush

Clenched in his toothy grin

And bade me paint the earth

With the pain I had within

Of black and white and shadow

And our souls all at the gallows

A saint in heavens glory

The dead rising from the shallows

Then he went all quite

And stared out into space

A sparrow on a branch

A home his soul to place