Cemeteries

Your eyelids heavy
Yet no sleep will come
You're sitting up in bed
Yeah, you feel so dumb

You know I think too much about
The smallest things, I can't figure them out
You know what they call people like us

A cemetery
A funeral
A murder of crows
A bad omen

An epitaph
A wreath of vines
A cemetery
I'm feeling fine

I'm so easily wounded
Too sensitive
Your happiness flows
Like a sand through a sieve
I'm eager to please and reluctant to heal
Heart on my sleeve it's too easy to feel
The impact
The letdown
The cliff's edge predicted and still unseen
The amber of honey to cut through the mean
The oh, how I love you
The not any more
Craving the dying
This life is a chore
You know what they call people like us

A cemetery
A funeral
A murder of crows
A bad omen

Write it on your epitaph
Make me laugh, make me laugh