Deep in the ground, you fear,
Like you were never here,
Like footprints in the sand,
The tide will wash away the sum of all you were,
Real as the moment that they put you in the ground,
Real as the days when you were making that sound.
You look down,
Your check is heaving,
You look around,
No one is grieving,
People smile,
It’s hard believing it’s the real you
You make sounds just like we’re hearing,
You touch the ground, no devils nearing,
You wonder why she doesn’t see or hear or feel you.
But you’re dead to her right now.
You’re dead to her right now.
You’re dead to her right now.
You’re dead to her right now.
She comes close,
Your eyes adjust,
It isn’t love,
It’s never lust,
It’s like she’s mourning the virile man you were,
She makes a cross across her chest,
Some kind of Pagan thing, your best guess,
It’s like a cross or something,
And it must mean something to her,
But you’re dead to her right now.
You’re dead to her right now.
You’re dead to her right now.
You’re dead to her right now.
Don’t be a fool, there won’t be a real funeral,
There’s not a wake and not a florist to stall,
Try to find people who are willing to carry your pall,
I reassure you that my goal here is true,
All things are passing and you will pass too,
You felt it coming but no one was listening at all,
Why didn’t she call? Why didn’t she call?
Deep in the ground, you fear,
Like you were never here,
Like footprints in the sand,
The tide will wash away the sum of all you were,
Real as the moment that they put you in the ground,
Real as the days when you were making that sound.
Every iteration gonna rise and fade,
Each left to biodegrade,
Like smoke billows in wind,
Maybe some lingering memory,
Nothing is real as the moment that they put you in the ground,
Real as the days when you were making that sound.
When I was five, my Kim and I,
Pooled our coins to see what we could buy,
At Nancy’s Candies on a summer day,
Alive to her somehow,
We walked among the ruins of our lives,
A sunny street where innocence survives,
Our mutual defenses from the scythe.
If I could talk to her today,
And if she still remembered anyway,
That when she left she left a hole in me,
And sometimes it appears,
And you can see a beating heart inside,
When winding roads and sunshine are applied,
Look carefully, you’ll see it never died…
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