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Mary Lambert
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Sarasvati
You are sanscrid on my skin.
Peel me open til I am nothing but a whisper.
Name your self center, I only play for pennies
and I don't play for sinners, I play for sadness.
I play for dead things.
So pull the bones from their sockets,
please be soft while you do it for I am fragile and fading.
Sarasvaties sew me to sleep.
I rested my gains and knee and the music I like goes up
and down like bobbing bodies in the river bend.
And they say,
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'Mary, why are your songs so sad?
Look at the luck and fortune you've had.
Why do you cry at night?'
Pull the bones from their sockets,
please be soft while you do it for I am fragile and fading.
You can take my body and tongue and organs,
whisper my skin like death has already rose and stuff.
Pull the bones from their sockets,
please be soft while you do it for I am fragile and fading.
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