But the way you look at me
Tells me there are tears behind your smile
And a graveside in your mind
Where you sit and wonder
Why he had to leave.

I know I'm not him
But if I can I want to be the
New face of that old love.

The tree that grows up
From the dust of his ashes
To fill the dark void that was
Left by his passing.

Next phase in the old story
Where death begins birth
And new life is a graveyard not yet dug.