The Morning falls through my ceiling...
with the weight of heavy snow,
And I can't seem to escape the feeling..
That I've lived through this sunrise before.
As if this isn't day three hundred sixty-two since you've left...
How can i possibly tell you that was the date God tried theft?
If your place at the table is nothing but an empty space.
Not another wise fable, nor one last embrace.
And under the Christmas tree there's a few gifts missing...
While within me my heart is freezing....
Your warm laughter is gone...
Your name forever written in stone...
