Envy On The Coast - “Tell Them She’s Not Scared”
This came up on my iPod very fittingly tonight. It’s a very moving song by an unfortunately short-lived band that talks about a cancer survivor who sends her angels back because she’s not ready to leave the world.
This song resonates loudly this past week due to a few unexpected deaths that occurred among my close friends and relatives. As cliche as it is, you wonder why these people had to go so early and why they didn’t survive. I have seen and experienced it firsthand, the pressure that builds among their loved ones, as they wonder if they could have somehow prevented the untimely events and suffering that led to their death.
I only wish the best for the loved ones. Because as unfair and insurmountable as life seems (even on a macroscopic level), there is an equally overwhelming amount of love, generosity, and support that follows your tragedies. Life isn’t trivial, please believe it. My heart goes out to you all.
Here are the lyrics:
I’ll hold your tears as a ransom
Within the palm of my hand,
And tell you once again,
Don’t tell me that you’re scared…
Wake, wake, wake her
From this sea of white linens and
Extract the drugs from her dreams
And sew her seams with delicateness,
‘Cause beneath her chest sits the heart that I live for,
You’d kill for,
The angels would die for.
And with a subtle wink and a flutter of wings,
They whispered,
They whispered…
I’ll hold your tears as a ransom
Within the palm of my hand
And tell you once again
Don’t tell me that you’re scared
Alert the sawbones,
Tell them that she’s not scared.
She’s got an army of saints armed with her prayers.
Wake the angels
Tell them that she’s not scared
She won’t be taking the next flight out of here.
This is only a test, she said,
Broadcasting from hospital beds.
With a relic in her right hand,
She rushes to the front line,
Stricken by the wounds across her chest
The angels swear she’s blessed with this medical test
That unlocks the gates to the place that we live for
We die for,
I know that she’s bound for.
And with a subtle wink and a mother’s instinct.
She whispered,
She whispered…
The angels dressed for the wake
But she sent them home.
With a handful of bullet shells.
