And To Think I Saw It On Mulberry Street

Yet Another Untitled

Don't know why I'm sitting by the phone,
Cause I know that you're not home,
You're at my house over here,
But too far to be near,
You're buried in the backyard,
Next to Jesus and Santa Claus,
You died on that imminent day,
I remember everything you had to say,
I try to cleanse my memory,
Grease it away with gluttony,
Try to put it to rest with exhaustion,
but when I close my eyes I see each motion,
I hated you when you said good bye,
Wanted to let you know what it's like to cry,
I wish that we could be happy,
Or at least that God's hand would touch me,
For now I sit here thinking of you,
You're encompassing every thought is closer to truth,
I want to forget all of it,
but your dark wave is my blanket,
Somehow keeping me alive,
Yet not warm enough to really live.