the beekeeper.

shove ii. (grave digger)

the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, right?
what a coincidence that i have dug my grave in the same fashion as my mother.

we both spit fire and hatred towards the lovers behind their backs,
but we were both too drunk to remember what happened come morning.

did he hit me?
did he push me?
did he throw all of my faith and devotion into a keg?
i can't remember, i can't remember;
or perhaps i do remember but i believe it was just a nightmare.

"he's a good man" she'll say,
"he's a good boy" i'll hum,
but both of us know we're lying down,
and the dirt is starting to get thick.