99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall
korafotomorgana
audio: 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall
99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall
That summer when I couldn’t see
for grief — for who could guarantee
he’d ever walk again? – I’d sing
this song and pump my rusty swing,
till every bottle left the wall,
then start da capo (it was all
or nothing) in a voice, though small,
as if the magic chant might bring
my father walking back to me.
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