When I am dying, crying for a reason to stay
I can't, lost too much time, I'm not the same
The world asks why, the truth is no one knows
My end will be the proof, the years show
They'll look at me, and wonder, quietly
Then ask how old I was when I died
I can't remember, happened so long ago
Asking why I've been so tired
Why are they asking the recently dead
When they have the proof in their own hand
A coffin lined with lead, then set me down
A rectangular cold hole covered in dirt
Where I'll not hear another sound
The dead can't hear the noise
Made by those still living
But the flaws of the lost
Can still be felt, dealt with
Maybe I can be forgiven
Please let me be forgiven
