Burn the dead and drown their soul,
Bury dreams in a six feet hole.
Love the ones that have eyes to see,
And a mouth to speak of what's meant to be.
Leave the dead in their peaceful state.
Because nor heaven or hell can determine their fate.
Of what's meant to be will find its way,
For the ones who live the following day.
The dead are now gone and old,
Their life and death will be untold.
And unheard to the ones who have the power to live,
While striding the globe like a forgotten thieve.
But the breath of life will flow away,
Nothing can promise its fragile stay.
A name can be carved on wood with a knife,
But when a face is gone, it's gone for life.
Memories will crumble like the skin of the dead,
Eyes will shrivel inside the head.
The bones will dry as time goes by,
But a lovers cheek will be wet as they cry.
So, to forget and live is hard to do,
When death will eventually find its way to you.
