Don t Weave No Wreaths Right Now

1
Don’t weave no wreaths for me just yet,
I never plaited up your braids.
Sister, forgive your closest one —
Accept it like the bee accepts the bloom

Yellow, red, or ghostly white,
Sweet-scented, beautiful, alive.
Sister, forgive your little brother —
He’s snug inside the wooden suit tonight…

Chorus:
Pinewood jacket, tight as hell,
AKA the narrow box from hell,
Lacquered casket, red-trimmed shell —
Look close inside, love,

No pockets in this suit, no stash, no dwell,
So go to sleep, little one… rest well

2
Don’t call me on that metal wheel no more,
The Bakelite box parked up on the pole
It only gives that “bee-bee-bee-bee” tone,
And in the earpiece all you’ll ever hear
Is: “He ain’t here. Nah, he’s gone, gone, gone…”

Chorus:
Pinewood jacket, tight as hell,
AKA the narrow box from hell,
Lacquered casket, red-trimmed shell —
Look close inside, love,

No pockets in this suit, no stash, no dwell,
So go to sleep, little one… rest well.


3
He stepped out for a bottle that black night,
Rain lashing down, vinyl spinning low —
“I’m waiting for you, come back home…”
By morning they wrote it on four sheets:
Protocol of the corpse examination

They found him: coat, boots, parapet, blood
Newspaper, сoppers, gawkers, postman on standby
Bad dream the night before —
Who’d have thought it’d come true at dawn?

Summons, night cells, barracks,
Blood-matted curls under the ceiling,
Moth fluttering round the bare bulb
You woke screaming “No!!!”

Realising it was your dead grandad in the dream…
Or was it him? Poor girl.

Chorus:
Pinewood jacket, tight as hell,
AKA the narrow box from hell,
Lacquered casket, red-trimmed shell —
Look close inside, love,

No pockets in this suit, no stash, no dwell,
So go to sleep, little one… rest well...