so many hearts grow heavy, filled up by so much sorrow
this is a that world provides so little hope for tomorrow
with a mind full of questions and a soul wondering why
i have a shovel in my hand and tsunami of tears in my eyes
with organs that weigh like lead, and my wounds are so fresh and pristine
i question the impartiality of life, but it's complicated and never what it seems
out of sight, out of mind, as a symbol of closure we cover memories up with dirt
we put our dead in the ground, and try our best to bury the hurt
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