Yesterday I sat in wonder at the flowers and the grave still she's gone still she's gone Now there are times I sit and ponder should I lament kneel and pray and go on and go on My tears have become my holy water stoking dead fires in empty rooms for so long, so wrong Should I regret and always atone after all we all come in and go out alone all alone Even though it's not December I feel that killing chill in me as it grows it always grows but I say no The garden that was you now lays fallow The dust that is me now can't quench its thirst anymore so long I'm just a man that wants a ship to heaven to see her again and again but I have no wings no magical means all I have are my memories Memories My tears became my holy water I was stoking dead fires in empty rooms for so long, so wrong Should I regret or even atone after all we all come in and go out alone I never trusted this life for a moment but I drank it in anyway the wine-stained pages we each turn are often seen in black and white And through the ages I've learned to clear a space on the shelf and dust off the lies to read every book and every last line and then burn the page