Epic Loss

Funeral Blues - W. H. Auden

"Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good."

"Blackout" - Chris Garneau
"I, I was kidding about the mean things
While we were sleeping
He rushed in, he rushed in
The fan stopped, the fan stopped
Oh oh oh oh

Flashlights and tele's
Drinking on the street
All the lights are out in New York City
And it never ever will be too damn late
To run inside the market place

I, I'll be quiet, then
And you do all of the talking
Then we're walking
Thoughts rush in, those thoughts rush in

The heart stops, the heart stops
Oh oh oh oh

Flashlights and tele's
Drinking on the street
All the lights are out in New York City
And it never ever will be too damn late
To runside the market place
And it never ever will be too damn late
To run inside the market place

I sit by the window and I watch all of the little
Rain drops, rain drops"