Death Nesting - Twenty-Three Years

The grave done called your name, twenty-three years to the day. I’m still trying to say my goodbyes to you, what am I supposed to do? The bed’s too wide, the house too still, your coffee cup empty on the windowsill. The clock don’t move, this life don’t ascend, I reach for you and find no end. Oh, this ground don’t give, and the sky won’t speak. I’m a hollow man, with a voice that leaks. The grave done took my only truth, twenty-three years, then it took you. The children call, their voices break, I hear your laughter in what they say. But nights are longer than they should be, there ain’t no fire that can burn like you through me. Oh, this ground don’t give, and the sky won’t speak. I’m a hollow man, with a voice that leaks. The grave done took my only truth, twenty-three years, then it took you. I buried my heart with yours, I stitched the earth with my tears. But I can’t mend the hole in me, can’t bury these lonesome years that carry me. Your ring still shines on the nightstand there, I reach my hand but touch only air. No prayer or ritual can change what’s come to be, this life is ash without your memory. Oh, this ground don’t give, and the sky won’t speak. I’m a hollow man, with a voice that leaks. Twenty-three years, the life we knew, and the grave has taken you. The grave done called your name, twenty-three years to the day. I’ll be chasing your shadow through every room, until the grave comes calling soon.