Within grief there's a quiet spot A small freezing womb of silence Like a hurricane's eye And I'm resting or whatever I do in there In the center sitting on a shelf somewhere Looking up looking down Looking into myself for words Shredding my heart in the search And there are no colors in here No small sounds or noises In the hurricane's eye There may be but they can't find my ears And if you notice the tangles in my hair They're the only proof or token you'll find Of my worries and fears My trees, they're dying on me A zombie, that's what I'll be! Grief can be a product of Someone's insensitivity Telling everyone how ok I am I swear it's killing me Inconsolable is what I am Life running through my fingers like sand And I know I'm not sick and tired This is how it feels when hope dies Within grief there's a quiet spot A small freezing womb of silence Like a hurricane's eye