Paroles What Will Death Be Like? de Momus

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Death will be unlike the night-times when we lie awake thinking of deathDeath will be unlike the Spanish maracas that rattle inside your last breathDeath will be unlike the Mexican festivals, skeletons wearing top hatsDeath will be unlike the brownstone apartments that dynamite or dereliction collapseDeath will be unlike the mandolin that the hangman relaxes by playingDeath will be unlike the hound of the Baskervilles, chilling the world with its bayingDeath will be unlike the British museum, its bodies from peat bogs & bonesDeath will be unlike the curse of the mummy that turns the explorers to stoneDeath will be unlike a great roller coaster, a plunge from a boast to a screamDeath will be unlike mahogany coffins great pianists play in their wildest strangest dreamsDeath will be unlike a garden in autumn where poets can sit & composeDeath will be unlike the granite memorials where memories wither in rowsDeath will be unlike the charge of the Light Brigade Alfred Lord Tennyson rhymedDeath will be unlike the thin piece of paper that Reagan & Gorbachov signDeath will be unlike the hospital bedside with Novocain needles & cardsDeath will be unlike the great Day of judgement when God the headmaster presents the awardsDeath will be unlike the marriage that vicars till death us do partDeath will be unlike the dreams of the young man who sang "Love will tear us apart"Death will be unlike TV documentaries showing us life from outsideDeath will be unlike the Buddhist nirvana the moth seems to seek in the lightDeath will be unlike the cities of crystal they build in a few grains of smackDeath will be unlike the long picture window the coffin looks through to a widow in blackDeath will be unlike a room full of spiders all clinging together & cryingDeath will be unlike the wedding guest's story, the ship drifting lost & the dead sailor sighingDeath will be unlike the din in the steeple when cholera poisons the villageDeath will be unlike the illumination that Tolstoy provided for poor Ivan IllychDeath will be unlike the wriggling sea children glimpse through the chinks in the boardwalkDeath will be unlike the magical land of "The Lion, The Witch & The Wardrobe"Death will be unlike the treacherous virus that murders the lovers with AIDSDeath will be unlike the phantoms of freedom that lead the crowd over the barricadesDeath will be unlike the night thoughts of "Late Call" when ministers stop being cosyDeath will be unlike "The Pit and the Pendulum" co-starring Bela LugosiDeath will be unlike the bulge of the mouse inside the boa constrictorDeath will be unlike that drunkard the phoenix, so tight on the moonshine of golden elixirsDeath will be unlike that violent pornography dear to the Marquis de SadeDeath will be unlike the last stitch of clothing the stripper discards as her nipples grow hardDeath will be unlike the bankrupt handing over the keys to his houseDeath will be unlike the last day of summer, when insects grow stupid & swallows fly southDeath will be unlike the skull of a merchant that slants through the portrait by HolbeinDeath will be unlike that strange proposition on silence, the Tractatus of WittgensteinDeath will be unlike your holiday snaps when the camera lets in the lightDeath will be unlike the honest but cold blooded bank clerk whose hobby is homicideDeath will be unlike the hands of the clock coming together at midnightDeath will be unlike the grim amputations of medical students larking on rag nightDeath will be unlike the hijacker's voice in the heads of air traffic controllersDeath will be unlike the sea as it thunders on Liv Ullman vanishing under the rollersDeath will be unlike the abbey the pilgrims all saw when they prayedDeath will be unlike the unholy land at the end of the Children's CrusadeDeath will be unlike the hell in "Huis Clos" Mr Sartre informs is just other peopleDeath will be unlike the travelling salesman who woke up one morning transformed to a beetleDeath will be unlike 2001, the room at the end of the rideDeath will be unlike the wrath that Charles Bronson let loose on the Lower East SideDeath will be unlike the house of the shades the dog Cerberus guarded for Hades his master& death will be unlike that lesson on Infallibility, the Chernobyl disaster& death will be unlike the empty career of the temp's vacillations gone permanentDeath will be unlike the unlikely omens the clairvoyant reads in the meaningless firmamentIn the meaningless firmamentWhat will death be like?What will death be like?Death will be like

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