I never want to see you In the raw and searing flesh I don't ever want to hear you Singing softly to the dead I never want to feel your skin Running warm along my side I never want to sink that way again It would be easier to die To die I'm tending the pyres Of my frustration Burning leaves on buried trees Kneeling in to rake the ashes I'm embering, I've smoldered out My hands are free, my lungs are proud Your forgiveness is a fading fiction Your forgiveness is a fading fiction These flames have never burned so high I won't be staring in your eyes I'm trying hard to remember The way the smoke drifts through the air We'll all be dead, come November Four months out of every year Every year, every year, every year, every year I won't be staring your eyes I won't be staring your eyes In your eyes every year