Can't accept this gift.
It came signed with a name
I haven't spoken in an age,
and inscribed with a verse
I no longer believe in;
so undeserving.
Put together with the loving hands
of a better kind of man.
I'm beginning to come across
one thing for all the shit that we've run off:
for all our revelations
we are no better off.
We piss on the graves of the ones who loved us.
We fuck with the names of those who give us love.
And we swear... we have gotten somewhere...
that for all we've torn ... we're somehow better than before...
Well, I'm beginning to come across
one thing for all the shit that we write off:
for all our reservations
we are no better off.
We piss on the graves of those who gave us love.
We fuck with the names of the ones who love us.
What would you expect to find
if we were to dig up these graves tonight?
What do you think you'd find
running through the cemetery of your mind?
I just want to drink in company I love.
I just need to give better than I have.
