The story

I remember there's a story

Of a woman sentenced to death

She called up her kids and husband

Said I won't come home today

And I won't come home tomorrow

No I won't come on Saturday

And I won't get there on Christmas

No I won't come on Mother's day.

So they burned all her belongings

To kill lonliness when night falls

And the room they used to sleep in

Stood there blushing from the naked walls

And with every dress thrown into fire

He would want her more than he ever did

And with every ruby lipstick

He felt trapped in his own guilt.

So he wrote an awkward letter

From the bottom of his fragile heart;

See, I never thought I loved you

But the silence tore me apart

With your death in all it's glory

It's no time for me to live

I remember there's a story

Of a man sentenced to grieve...