They give birth astride of a grave. The lights gleams an instant, then it's night once more.
Man that is born of a woman hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery. He cometh up, and is cut down, like a flower; he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay.
Then I'm dying at the bottom of a pit
In the blazin' sun
Torn and twisted
At the foot of a burnin' bike
And I think somebody somewhere
Must be tolling a bell
And the last thing I see
Is my heart, still beatin'
Breakin' out of my body
And flyin' away
Like a bat out of Hell
Well this will never happen to you because you're too much of sissy to get on a bike anyway
The bike here is a metaphor, h. It stands for all those things which constitute what the poet once
described as 'The Price You Pay'; the burdens of being in this skin, in this place, trying to connect whilst remaining in the self.
Either that or it's a Harley which has, predictably, failed to negotiate a mild bend in the road.
Webster was much possessed by death / And saw the skull beneath the skin; / And breastless creatures
under ground / Leaned backward with a lipless grin
Nor dread nor hope attend
A dying animal;
A man awaits his end
Dreading and hoping all;
Many times he died,
Many times rose again.
A great man in his pride
Confronting murderous men
Casts derision upon
Supersession of breath;
He knows death to the bone --
Man has created death.
You know I'm born to lose
And gambling's for fools
But that's the way I like it baby
I don't want to live forever
use of metaphor in poetry shocker.
Razors pain you; Rivers are damp;
Acid stains you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.
Alright now, that's emo girl poetry
I mean, Betjemen was bad enough