You Gotta Be Crazy To Be Dead

Met a man, was no more than a shadow in the street
Looking down, I could see he had chains around his feet
In no more than a whisper, he leaned to me and said:
“Listen to me buddy, you gotta be crazy to be dead.”
Met a woman, she was pale as pale could ever be
Was almost made of morning mist, as far as I could see
And leaning in, she said to me, “I don’t think I am real—
“I cannot shout or sing or dance or laugh or cry or feel.”
I found a child, this tiny thing, just staring at the ground
Not doing much of anything, with no one else around
I couldn’t stop that child from clinging tightly to my sleeve
Saying, “Mister, I seen crazy things you never would believe.”
Then I looked up and saw that there was nowhere in that street
Free of shuffling, shadowed forms, of people who were beat
And mumbling, muttering, maundering, they turned to me and said:
“Listen to us, mister, you gotta be crazy to be dead.”
Copyright © 2019 Murray Ewing.