Raiding the inarticulate since 2010

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RIP Sam

Did you hear the ’59 Sound coming through on grandmother’s radio?
Did you hear the rattling chains in the hospital walls?
Did you hear the old gospel choir when they came to carry you over?
Did you hear your favorite song playing one last time…?

Tell all the young boys, young girls,
 All the young boys, young girls,

That you ain’t supposed to die on a Saturday night,
Ain’t supposed to die on a Saturday night,
Ain’t supposed to die on a Saturday night,
You weren’t supposed to leave my life. 

So fuck it back to the wall/
crush it/ laugh at em all/
hush/ let em try to find the beauty in your face/
something more than a song/
they hatin? Aw come on/
dust/ let em try to find the beauty in the bassline/
aw but then them words dont change/
we wont sing with what will fade away/
yeah we do our own damn thing/
we dont blink at what tomorrow might bring (at all)/

Well I haven’t always been a perfect person,
I haven’t dreamt what mum and dad had dreamed,
but on the day I die, I’ll say at least I fucking tried.
That’s the only eulogy I need,
thats the only eulogy I need.

Rest in peace mate. It was a privilege to know you.
Samuel Edmund Hiller 1984 – 2012