A pine box in a grave,
the walls of wood will slowly decay,
the worms will enter
and feast on your skin
till you are no longer recognizable,
not even to your own kin.
Bones caked with dirt and tears.
The walls of wood will crack and bend
till the dirt fills the void within,
fills the spaces between your ribs
and fingers
and your toes,
covering all of your bones
in that sad lonely hole.
Years pass,
and the earth grinds your bones to a dust,
till you are no longer a body,
just a part of the earth's crust.

When you look at the sky and you say it's blue,
do you see the blue like I see blue?

For we only have words and the words won't do.
What colour is blue? It's the colour of the sky.
What colour is the sky? The sky is blue.

When you look at our love and you say it's true,
do you see true like I see true?

Do you see love the same way too?
You say you love me and I love you.  

But we only have words and the words won't do.