I am held captive by what I won’t say, What I won’t remember, What I won’t accept
The way out is a pilgrimage; Back through places I do not want to go. Through a cemetery of the past Where the graves are half dug, The caskets are open And nothing is laid to rest.
If I take a bouquet of Lillie’s And pay the past my respects, Will I spend too much time repenting, For I am glad they are dead
Frozen in a permanent state of grief If I stay trapped though, Will I soon find my life becomes a coffin, Flanked by all that put me there And haunted by their untested souls.