Lay you on my kitchen table
Cut you open tenderly
Eat your heart and eyes and mouth
Every word you spoke to me
Eat the day we swam at Whitney
Eat the wind as cold as ice
Eat the sun that warmed your skin
Your soft hand that reached for mine
Eat the coffee and the pancakes
Eat the films and fucks in bed
Eat the days the kids were born
The day we found out Jean was dead
Well okay, let-let's creep up on this a little bit, broach it carefully
The first thing to say is when one does think
Really get down to thinking about death, the place of death in our experience, the experience of life
We notice that if it's right that death is nothing to us individually
I'm not gonna experience my own death
My own dying, yes, but not my own "being dead"
Then that means that death, as I experience it is other peoples' death
I experience death as grief and loss
I experience it as the page in the interesting book which suddenly disappears
And it's not longer there and the nostalgia, the lack, the loss, the sorrow
It is what my experience is all about
Eat the roaring, blazing rows
Eat the never-ending hugs
Eat the angry and the kindness
Most importantly, your love
Lay you on my kitchen table
Cut you open tenderly
Eat your heart and eyes and mouth
Every word you spoke to me
Lay you on my kitchen table
Cut you open tenderly
Eat your heart and eyes and mouth
Every word you spoke to me
So they, they, uh, they say to learn to die is to learn to philosophize
That is, you get wisdom from the fact that you realize there is nothing to fear from death
And therefore there is nothing to fear from anything
And what you should concentrate therefore is on all the business of living
Meditation of the wise person is a meditation on life not on death
Because death is nothing to us