Bruce Cockburn - Things You'll Miss

I still wish I had time to spend with you
I wish we had a holiday together
Don't you have a beat left in your heart?
Don't you have a brain left in your muscle?

Come on, spit it out!
Try to find out what went wrong
Again.

Reach back for a second into noisy irritation
Meaningless madness
Clumsy blame and anger
Morbid curiousity

Won't you miss us demons when you go?
Don't you think you'll wonder where we've gone?
When you shuck your body like a pheasant skin
A husk of corn
These are the things you'll miss.

I swear it can't be such a relief
It's got to hurt to say good-bye.
Every detail must jump out at your eye,
Begging to be recognized
At least for having a place in space
At least for meaning something to somebody

Every petty argument
Every pent up agression
Every way to insinuate yourself into someone's lame-brained plan.

You'll miss us when you go.
It's boring to be dead.
You'll still wish you could put a pistol to your head.