This is about letting go
Because of all my knowledge
Its still something I lack to know
I lay entangled with you at night
To others though, you aren't in sight
When I no longer hear the tenor of your voice
And playing a recording is my only choice
And I can't recall your kiss
The closest is my lips to my own wrist
The instances when I go through my own hell
As I walk in public by some man with the same smell
Or pass a truck of the same color
Sends my heart running for cover
Or the time your name accidentally slips from my mouth
Warrants a moment of silence, how we grieve in the South
The worst of it could be that there's no grave
No place to spill the tears I save
Much to my astonishment they don't bury the living
Even after their soul stops giving.