You used to stand so close to me,
That you could fit right in between,
Me and my guitar,
But now you stand so far away,
That you can barely hear me say,
I don’t want you any more.
You pulled me down in to the the deep,
When I couldn’t breath you sunk you teeth.
Into a chorus of plain,
You hitched my neck and pulled the slack,
And threw a saddle on my back,
And I just pulled away!
Now all these things are rotten,
Now that you are gone forgotten.
But I still haven’t gone forgotten you.
I learned to cringe and clench my teeth,
And found a place where I could keep,
The shackles of our love.
A shallow grave for you to bathe,
You’ll no longer misbehave,
Alive behind locked doors.
Your mausoleum was a crypt to keep,
So I wiped my hands and swept my feet,
And carried you no more.
Your death will be eventual,
A consequence perpetual.
Clawing at your door.
Now all these things are rotten,
Now that you are gone forgotten.
But I still haven’t gone forgotten you.
Reality is settled in,
remorse and doubt and grief of sin,
Never made a sound.
How long can you live down there,
Until you are just bones and hair,
The answer I will find!
So I popped the crypt and looked inside,
And found that you had never died,
But written on the floor,
Inked in blood, THE STRONG SURVIVE!
and I realize you’re still alive,
As you slam the door.
Now I am turning rotten,
Now that I am gone forgotten,
I wish I had gone forgotten you.
Now I am turning rotten,
Now that I am gone forgotten,
I wish I had gone forgotten you.