#52 don't expect me to be bright and bon vivant

Sometimes the dead rise up from death and they just show up to hunt me. And I promised I would never look back, back is no direction, crying and trying to find some fairness, some justice, some sense to something I've already accepted  that had none, it's just a total waste of time. Still, having the ghost around, on the mouth of friends, stealing from me those 3 days of happiness, the ticket I bought a month ago and I carry religiously in my wallet as a promise of some well deserved fun after all this - nothing really compared to what I've already been stolen this year - re-hearing stories that don't matter anymore, having to make my heart into stone again, pretending that I'm happier now - I'm not but I'm all right, I'm all right, just weary to my bones, still don't expect me to bright and bon vivant, I'm all right, really am, happy even (not happier though), but only as long as the ghost doesn't find me.
So, dear friends, leave the dead among the dead, at least when I'm around


Many's the time I've been mistaken,
And many times confused
And I've often felt forsaken,
And certainly misused.
But I'm all right, I'm all right,
I'm just weary to my bones
Still, you don't expect to be
Bright and Bon Vivant
So far away from home,
So far away from home.

I don't know a soul who's not been battered
Don't have a friend who feels at ease
Don't know a dream that's not been shattered
Or driven to it's knees.
But it's all right, all right.