nothing left to do (but smile)

the plants were growing well back in fifth grade the one that should have died, i brought back to life
but a knock at the door cracks thought mind blames till head snaps to see god in the doorframe
strange to see his eyes wet, bottom lip bit to arrest the trembling pockets stuffed with sweaty hands
the news broke like water crashing through a heavily cracked damn but twelve years just can't understand

i can't sit here and say i recall much of the maples fingers flushing color that fall
but a hotel room in a familiar city and a car ride there finds family to pity
a congregation a fixation of emotion to drown me out drag me down and say hey little man, you ok?
i say in a beat under my breath, yeah, sure, i may look like death but i'm smiling anyway

smile smile smile at the memory of it all
smile smile smile at the very fact i got to meet you at all

life the paradox it seems to me all the action and all the attraction amounts to just memory
in the end we crawl back in our heads head for home seek shelter from the storm of alone
and day to day we search boldly for the end of the story our parents
would quietly whisper on our beds at age two
but when the fork's been found and it's all over and done, i think you'll agree
there's not a whole lot left to do but just . . .

smile smile smile at the memory of it all
smile smile smile at the very fact i got to meet you at all

every now and then I think
back to the back of my mind
pull out a lonely black and white at a time
form a full length reel of stills
replay my childhood days
and mother son thrills

smile smile smile at the memory of it all
smile smile smile at the very fact i got me meet you at all

- story -