Highgate Cemetery

Go back to the bench and sit.
Talk about we’d talk about.
Updates on new games and comics.

I don’t have a heaven to give.

Just a different place to exist.

I’ve lost every bout that 
Can’t be won with a fist.

Heaven is good feelings, quick.

There’s not one religion I believe in.

But I know what it’s like to sin.

To feel a sadness that eats your heart
all I had was those chats in the park.

So I go back to the bench and sit.
Talk about what we’d talk about
Getting better and feeling shit.

Working on myself, wealth and health

on my weekends, free time and night shifts

in my funeral suit, on my relationship
through vegan food.
 
Through a sickness or till my skin sheds

on frothing the milk while redrafting the script

overtime in a right state for minimum wage

To postpone pain
or free up head-space.

on sleep and getting out of bed


So I go back to the bench and sit
Watch the dogs enjoy the park
Talk to a ghost and feel a weight lift.

All my softness went with him
All my vulnerabilities 
All my chances of thinking
There was a redemption 
In loving someone into becoming better

Despite all this
I still go back to the bench and sit
There must be something in it
There must be something in it.