this life it *****, it rusts in dust
it lusts for the thirst of your blood
flowers in dirt and dies in dusk
count your scars in tears plucked
wearing a mask of mothers guilt
in the same home, a father once built
by the same hands that devoured love
of a few names that a box once filled
smothered by the memories tamed
unspoken words burning the remains
from all those dreams that were killed
none shall see the face smile again
standing so still against the wall
almost dead if not for your shadow
there is no room for you here at all
them lies are all buried in the meadows
whispering in the winds now again
how hollow is the lonely song
the piper keeps piling the corpses
only for more to come back along.