Whiskey Grove

my name is Miguel Simone
 a man who walked it alone
 at least that's what it says on the stone under the sycamore
 my mother was dead by the time i was born
 in the black of my eyes the gypsy woman warned
 she could already see my path torn between the sun and the moon
 so i walked it and i walked it straight
 until i passed through so many a gate
 that not even the blame and the hate of my father could follow
 so roll me into my last shallow bed
 use carpenter tacks in the lid
 waste not the silk on my head my lover has wove
 see that no roses touch my grave
 no prayers to a god i never forgave
 no final wishes, save that you
 bury my body and me down by Whiskey Grove
 i once knew the love of a wife
 sometimes the nectar, sometimes the knife
 but it always seemed that my life was lived alongside of things
 three children born one hot July
 she clutched the one that did not die
 the heat and the light just passed by as i carried the other two -
 i still carry the other two
 i've seen the place where the daylight was killed
 and the blood of a blue moon lay spilled
 where hearts go quiet, memory stilled, rest is bestowed
 it's a place where the cup passeth over for good
 and even Jesus would've hid if he could
 in that forsaken stretch of wood they call Whiskey Grove
 my name is Miguel Simone
 a man who walked it alone
 at least that's what it says on my stone under the sycamore