my name is Miguel Simone   a man who walked it alone   at least that's what it says on the stone under the sycamore      my mother was dead by the time i was born   in the black of my eyes the gypsy woman warned   she could already see my path torn between the sun and the moon      so i walked it and i walked it straight   until i passed through so many a gate   that not even the blame and the hate of my father could follow      so roll me into my last shallow bed   use carpenter tacks in the lid   waste not the silk on my head my lover has wove   see that no roses touch my grave   no prayers to a god i never forgave   no final wishes, save that you   bury my body and me down by Whiskey Grove      i once knew the love of a wife   sometimes the nectar, sometimes the knife   but it always seemed that my life was lived alongside of things      three children born one hot July   she clutched the one that did not die   the heat and the light just passed by as i carried the other two -    i still carry the other two      i've seen the place where the daylight was killed   and the blood of a blue moon lay spilled   where hearts go quiet, memory stilled, rest is bestowed      it's a place where the cup passeth over for good   and even Jesus would've hid if he could   in that forsaken stretch of wood they call Whiskey Grove      my name is Miguel Simone   a man who walked it alone   at least that's what it says on my stone under the sycamore