What's the point in listening when your words are filled with lies
A spoken sense of burning down your bridges and your ties
Phone calls laced with memories of what will never be
The judge's voice is cold and clear
No more family

We'll be buried in a graveyard, next to my childhood
It's just a place I visit because it'll do me good

When I grow up, I will thank you and Dad for this
But I won't pretend I forgive you when you say: Sorry, kids

What's the point in listening when your words are filled with lies
A spoken sense of burning down your bridges and your ties
Phone calls laced with memories of what will never be
The voice of Death is cold and clear
No more family

We'll be buried in a graveyard, next to my childhood
The eulogy suggests that we once said: We could
Life is not about us, for you and Dad at least
So don't expect forgiveness when you say: We're sorry

We stand on our own, looking for a place to call our home