A Song

Last year in December
I was on the candy aisle
And I turned to see green and red
And I stood there for a second
In what some would call denial
Has it really been that long since you've been dead?

And I wrote this whole album about
The stuff I'm letting go of
But I couldn't write one about you
See I don't think I was built
For the world, and all this guilt
And now, I carry enough for two

I realized the other day
That if I'm ever worthy
Someone may give me a child
I'll name her something sweet
And raise her to be like me
Running so careless and wild
And you will never know her name

And I still don't know what I'm doing
I still don't have a plan
Everyone's lives are moving
And slipping through my hands
And I'm just sitting on a mountaintop
Making lists of what I've lost
Hoping to find a part of me

And nobody likes the music
It's too sad and it's too simple
And I think I'm too mean to be loved
And I try to talk to people and make it all make sense
But I'm just filled with all this shit
And the conversation feels so dense

Two years gone and two years wasted
I have nothing to show
I'm even worse than when you left
Not getting any better
So I'll make my bed in the snow

So if you're up there
Could you talk to someone higher up?
And see what's taking so long
Cause I'm still sitting at your wife's house
Writing you a letter
Hoping it'll turn into a song

Hoping I'll turn into a song