Seated on the couch,
TV blaring loud.
Nothing more than a hush,
And a corpse between us.

We carry it around,
We poke and make fun,
Pretending it's alive,
What's long gone.

We take showers and make meals,
Life never feels real.
We didn't even think about it at first,
But we're carrying a corpse between us.

Pretending it's alive,
Trying to complete the run.
Where does it take us?
When it's the corpse of our love?

Our love is dead and gone,
And we're trying to keep it alive.
But it doesn't have a pulse, breath, heat, or beat.
We're just carrying its corpse around,
Pretending it's not gone.