Mourning you in him already
Seeing his future in 7 or 8 cans
and the ashes on the sill
The loss of you and
What you gave them
slipping away with
Every sleep
They don’t hear your name
Or Sing your song
It’s gone.
Mourning you in him already
Seeing his future in 7 or 8 cans
and the ashes on the sill
The loss of you and
What you gave them
slipping away with
Every sleep
They don’t hear your name
Or Sing your song
It’s gone.