You left us when I was 8,
your birthday turned into a funeral.

We were wishing you health,
while you were dying.

My brain told me to cry,
my heart couldn't believe it.

It's not possible.
You can't be under the ground.
You're gonna return one day.
You're gonna cross the threshold again.

All I was thinking about was you,
now I can't even remember you.

I've forgotten the colour of your eyes,
the timbre of your voice,
the shape of your lips,
the length of your hair.

Now you're laying down there.
Down there, six feet under.

I bet it's quiet.
I bet it's lonely.
I bet it's cold.
I bet it's dark.
I bet you like it.