Buried In Your bones

Mr. Independent

I don't know what to give you

I don't know what to get you

Mr. Independent

You control time and space

But you don't know how they function

Mr. Independent

You give lo-ve in essence

You don't know how to earn it

You thought me how to cave in

To your needs and wanting

I don't know what to get you

That will lift my ego

A giving that will weigh than feathers

I see through you

But I didn’t see who you were before you rose to

Independence, independence, independ...

Now, I see through you

But I didn't see who you were before

You formed ashes in the clouds

My independent

When I give you gold coins

You swallow them

And they return as gold leaves

Mr. Independent

When I clean your floors

Your pour unto it debris

When I distill your water

You pour in earth

I can't think what to get you

Mr. Independent you said

Clothes are for those

Who are naked and can be seen

That life is for the living

That death is for those who are done smiling

And wanting

You once said;

Every smell and harmony is the motion of ghost, air and fire

So no need for music and wreaths

No need for the air to be fresh

No need to wait and wait

For the pearls that you’ve often begged for

For every material desire is buried in your bones