Who is that, up there at the top of the stairs?
It's a face I've only seen in frames,
holds my mother's surname
It's my Grandfather Wilt; he's efficiently built
After his death, he told my Uncle goodbye
No one was surprised
Logic begat a bridal path, but he found God in his math
Told my mom, “We know not the day nor hour”
Funeral flower
When I see him up there, I feel so unprepared
I am the father of a thousand kids
I don't know what I did

There are un-mapped unknowns, hair that never gets combed
When I pass like a poem in class
into a dashboard I crash
take me up there, to the top of the stairs
Or just take me outside
I won't know I wasn't right
What if I wake up as someone new?
What are the roots from which deja vu grew?
In the dirt, I'll play Solitaire
James, are you up there?

There are coins that I flip that I trust more than this
The idea that even if I stray,
I'm forgiven someday
But this sever and what it's cost me has been haunting, exhausting
So what of the lessons I have learned
should I be most concerned?

Every star in the sky puts that tar in disguise
When I pass like a question asked
into a chalkboard I crash
Take me up there, to the top of the stairs
Or just take me outside
I won't know I wasn't right
What if I wake up as someone knew?
What are the roots from which Deja Vu grew?
In the dirt, I'll be growing hair, I'll think I'm up there

We were outside of Indiana
You were tall but you were looking up
You said, “It's so clear out here,” but the night was bluffing
Just a little black bag from Santa
made me wish I hadn't woken up
But if you asked me, “What's up?”, I would say “Nothing”