When my dad died,
the worms ate out both his eyes.
His soul flew right up in the sky.
I cried myself to sleep.

When my mother lies
alone on her back at night,
adding up hours 'til her demise,
she counts herself to sleep.

When my sister finds
my body closed up like the blinds,
I tell her I promise it's fine.
She cries herself to sleep.

The men in the black ties
arrive at the house in surprise,
to find a little girl by your side,
the wood box where you're sleeping.

I still see you
inside of this god awful house.
You move awfully quiet now.
And I still feel you everywhere.

You told me this has always been worth living.
What's really worth living anymore?