Even the Good Wood Gone

And when I woke up, I woke up stiff and gray already
 Posed in sleep by something half my cells made stone
 Wrists and ankles crossed at a vulnerable angle
 And when I woke up, well I woke up alone
 As the only fool or pharaoh present
 In a shoddy school museum collection
 Looted of gold, if there ever was some
 And even the good wood gone
 Remaining fingers curled around the memory of Ra
 Left not even with my death mask on
 Heart and other organs missing for so long
 Features faded and dated in estimation
 And even the good wood gone
 Drunk off a leak in the ceiling
 Some mantra stuck on my lips in vain
 No flash photography
 No flash photography
 No flash photography
 And when I'm really buried I'll be buried in Cleveland
 With a new pair of skis and someone's old set of keys to their car
 And bottom floor apartment door and health club locker
 Throw the scent of my true purpose from god and grave robbers
 My true purpose which I will have taken the care to have kept hidden
 Even from myself my whole life
 No flash photography
 No flash photography
 No flash photography
 Already gray and rehearsing my mantra
 Left hand gripping hockey stick or cattle prod
 My final futile act of double deception
 Aloof and tinged with truth as the best lies are
 As I've always shot pool south paw
 And many of you who knew me saw