The flowers aren't coming
To pay respect to the dead
I'd rather focus on the living
And your alive inside my head
I still feel the earth move
Still feel sand crumble between my fingers
Warmed by the slinking sun
Yet your memory still lingers
Was I ever the one I was meant to be
It wasn't meant to be you
Then was it meant to be me ?
I'm disillusioned by the past
Haunted by a siren that rests serene
This is my penance
This is my torture
For when you were rocked and ravaged
And left bleeding on the floor
I would not come to you
I would not come....
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