I know you have mountains of word
To try to make me feel good,
But the sweetness of your tongue
Masks the bitterness of them.
As friends falling down
Raining ashes to the ground,
Scoop the mounds in a backpack
And carry them around.
As the weight buckles your knees,
You drag them to the sea,
But the sandpaper earth
Wears holes in their coffin.
Then my job is done,
As your god has his fun,
Dragging memories out of the darkness
And into the son.
Let them sail away,
So the thoughts can decay,
And so the fresh breeze of autumn
Can bring them back some day