Be at Rest

Mr. Felice
Six-foot tall, a hundred and forty-eight pounds
Soft teeth, sleep-deprived
Below average student

Owner of two ill-fitting suits
Wearer of hand-me-downs
Often lukewarm and withdrawn
Bathrobe often loosely tied

(Be at rest, my friend)
Be at rest

Never once named employee of the month
Lover of 24-hour laundromats
Avoider of eye contact
Avoider of blood drives

(Be at rest, my friend)
Be at rest

Worked every nightclub in America
Had a fear of falling pianos
Now exists in the interval between being and illusion
In the saddle of a phosphorous horse
A patron of snow cone carts
Semi-proficient at long division
Once spent over two months stuck in a painting by Bruegel the Elder

The hearse has been clean and polished
His body has been prepared for entombment
The guest book left open
The funeral parlor pillows have been fluffed

To his son, he leaves a cloudless sky
One pair of ill-fitting shoes
To his wife, a box of undeveloped negatives
And a bowl of onion soup
From dreams to dust



Credits
Writer(s): James Paul Felice, Ian Michael Felice
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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