My dear, you already saw my father;
You already saw what I am capable of.
Sausage links on a string,
Flung over a hook, flung over
Because they love you.
Uncle, don’t come, don’t follow.
Other things have been here;
That is why you mustn’t follow.
This is why I pass the saddle on,
This is why I attend a funeral for him, my Galilee.
“Deeply good” is the bare minimum,
This little pile.
Meet me at the end of the world,
Where you already are, after all
You left me to call out my own name, alone.