The weight of those who’ve gone pulls at my heart
They have wound me with their ropes so they can tug
And as I stumble through this world’s sick fog
I wonder for how long we’ll be apart.
Should I cut the ropes that bind me hard?
Must I be sister cruel to those who’ve died?
They won’t want to know how much I’ve cried
Should I walk away from all we shared?
In the early morning, in the night.
I lie alone too long before the dawn.
Weeping at the moon . oh broken heart.
The images of loved ones hurt my sight.
But I must cut the ropes and venture on.
Weep no more for all the ones who’ve gone
