{V}

With the grace of a corpse in a riptide I let go. And I slide, slide, slide, downriver. With an empty case by my side, an empty case; that’s my crime.

And I sing: Say Valley Maker. To keep from cursing. Yes I sing: Say Valley Maker. To keep from cursing.

River Oh, River End. River Oh, River End. River Go, River Bend.

Take me through the sweet valley where your heart blooms. Take me through the sweet valley where your heart is covered in dew.

And when the river dries, will you bury me in wood? Where the river dries, will you bury me in stone?

Oh I never really realized death is what it meant to make it on my own.

Because there is no love where there is no obstacle. And there is no love where there is no bramble. There is no love on the hacked away plateau. And there is no love in the unerring. And there is no love on the one true path.

Oh I cantered out here, now I’m galloping back

So bury me in wood, and I will splinter.

Bury me in stone, and I will quake.

Bury me in water, and I will geyser.

So bury me in fire, and I’m going to phoenix.

{From Say Valley Maker, from "A River Aint Too Much To Love", By Smog}