Текст: Okkervil River. Other. A Leaf.

Jeremy Lee had an ice-creamery. On the evening of October 10th he lost fifty-five dollars and seventy cents, was shot twice in the chest and again in the head, the police found him dead by the walk-in.

And he loved God so much, as he lay inside his bed he could feel her sweep over his skin, feel her filling the air with the weight of her care, he didn't care what was waiting for him. How he'd cry, he cried so much knowing that this was the end, and then he'd feel like a leaf lifted by wind. How I love him, so much that I almost cave in every time my hand touches the pen.

So lower your cameras and switch off the spotlight, you shouldn't be proud of the footage got, because there won't be an end to the similar shots that have happened, are happening, and can't be prevented from endlesly happening again. For all your pride and your comfort and speed of ascent, you're heading too soon to a similar end - maybe coughing up blood in a hospital bed as your heart-attack, cancer or car accident breaks you down to a place in the ground for your kids to come visit.

And if God loves us back, now we know what it is. She must have no control over this worlds events, because no one deserves this much punishment. And now it's late in the autumn, the leaves line the bend. It's a beautiful day for the first snow to land, and so it's landing on me and on Jeremy Lee who left this world gracefully broken.