Cages and cases of starving birds and dead things
No longer look anything
Like what they did when they'd been living

The things you love you put into cement,
In order to keep them, they have to be dead
You think that he's yours but it's only in your head
His coffin is not your arms
His grave is not your bed

Lockets and caskets full of garbage and ashes
Bothing but collections of nothing
You've been protecting

The things you love you put into cement,
In order to keep them, they have to be dead
You think that he's yours but it's only in your head
His coffin is not your arms
His grave is not your bed

Taking baths in concrete
Harbor a love for things that don't exist
Try to set them into stone but you can't
He's made of bones and flesh

The things you love you put into cement,
In order to keep them, they have to be dead
You think that he's yours but it's only in your head
His coffin is not your arms
His grave is not your bed