There’s a hole in the dirt. There’s a hole in my heart. One will be filled up. One will fall apart.
Could you see me with your eyes closed shut? Would you hug me if your arms weren’t folded?
And nothing hurts worse than packing all your clothes in black plastic bags out of the house, and your room is hollow. You’ve gone somewhere I can't follow.
But you’ve leaned on my heart with all your weight. You changed the way that it looks and feels.
Please don’t leave. No don’t go. You’re the only home I've ever known. I cant get past this. I'm on my own.
I've inherited a weight. I've inherited a guilt. I can't support the house that you’ve built. I've inherited a weight. I've inherited a guilt. I can't support the house that you’ve built because there's bad blood.
Theres bad blood on my hands and on my face. It’s a disgrace to the man that you were, and I'm not that same man… it’s a real shame.
It’s a poor man in a poor man's grave. Its all the same to your kind. Who you killed was someone’s father. Who you killed that was my father. That’s all the same to your kind.
The heart is a faceless clock, and no one ever thinks of when it stops till you're dead on the table and your son arrives and holds your hand in his, and its still as warm as your smile–like you were waiting for me, and God, I cried so hard. It's like you took the winter with you because for the next three days it rained.
For the next three days it rained, as the world wept you away
I won't let you die. I'm keeping you alive. If only in my head, you're not dead. You're not dead. You're not dead. You're not dead. You're not dead.
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