The graveyard is filled with lovers
The bars are filled with bones
We search for hearts in empty cages
And always go home alone
A Mausoleum lover
Silent as a tomb
I’ve been dead already
Since the day you left the room
We make love to corpses
Our hands unclean with ash
of past verse and roses
that never seem to last
We push aside
phantom limbs
of past Them
and pretend
we’re not dead already
The morning comes all deathly quiet
It was long ago bereaved
Is she even breathing?
Has she planned to leave?
It may be macabre
But, pulses are for those that care
I’ve been dead already
Only my bones that are here
We make love to corpses
Our hands unclean with ash
of past verse and roses
that never seem to last
We push aside
phantom limbs
of past Them
and pretend
we’re not dead already.
She picked out the gravestone
She picked out the plot
She went to go live
And left me here to rot.
I dug my own grave
I simply reached too deep
I’ve been dead already
My soul for the worms to keep.
We make love to corpses
Our hands unclean with ash
of past verse and roses
that never seem to last
We push aside
phantom limbs
of past Them
and pretend
for just one moment,
we are not dead already.
We are not dead already.
We’re already dead.