Из альбома: Feast of Love
Piled up your clothes.
Fold them on your bed.
Spring is alive in Michigan.
You are dead.
Your favorite shirt held close to my face.
Inhale deep as I could manage.
I found the scent alive but
you are dead.
Collapse onto the floor
clutching the fabric you once wore.
Keep them in my bed,
hope to find to sleep again.
Cause in my dreams,
You're more than memories.
Your voice, your face.
From the folds of my brain.
Still the current running through my veins.
I am alive even though you are dead.