Stephan Nance — Immunodeficiency

Trouble is, Nowadays, We go walking in the rain Protected by our plastic parasols. From the mists To the waves, We don't think we ever will implode again, The mighty leaden rollers rushing in to kill us all. But the ships are swiftly sinking, And the submarine in which I am Sequestering myself Is failing to produce a proper answer. I'm thinking to myself, I'm telling me that deftly I'll be Giving my advice to all the world, that The cells we're in are splitting So it's looking like It's likely that it's cancer. You looked sweet Standing there, Smiling at me sleepily Suspiciously like someone who is dead. Shake the sheets, Let 'em air, We'll go down in history Conspicuously grinning like the cat who's in the story life we've led. And the ships are softly sighing As the sedimental seafloor says A prayer to bring them home And sings a sullen cradle song of death. I'm thinking to myself, I'm telling me that certainly we Haven't got the heart to tell the world that The tumors are malignant, So the time is coming When we'll breathe our last breath. From the start, Where was I? I was not the kind of guy To look a fading flower in the eye. Cross your heart, Hope to die, Hope to soon be sailing smoothly heaven-high, Surrounded by the seabirds as they skim the starless sky. credits from A Troubled Piece of Fruit, released 23 July 2012 Stephan Nance, piano/vocals Angelica Sather Hodgetts, cello/melodica Tim McLaughlin, trumpet