Letter To The Dead
Every photograph is peeling
the colors turn to gray, this day
there is always memories for days, these days
an undertow of futures laid to waste, embraced
by the loss of one he could not replace
and there's no reason that she'd pass
and there is no god with the plan, it's sad
and his holiness is proof, it's said
he could only know how you have sinned
the world swings through a passing fable
a fate we made a way, we say
holding on, live within our own ways
he lit a match, he laid in bed
hoping their dreams will bring her back, it's sad
and his holiness is proof, they said
he could only love you, it's said
oh in his last breath, believing
he'll make his way
if she's not forgotten
he's haunted
he's searching for escape
if just one wish could bring her back, it's sent
and his holiness is proof, it's said
Carta a los Muertos
Cada fotografía se está despegando
los colores se vuelven grises, este día
siempre hay recuerdos por días, estos días
una corriente subterránea de futuros desperdiciados, abrazados
por la pérdida de uno que no pudo reemplazar
y no hay razón para que ella pase
y no hay dios con el plan, es triste
y su santidad es prueba, se dice
solo podría saber cómo has pecado
el mundo gira a través de una fábula pasajera
un destino que hicimos, decimos
aferrándonos, viviendo a nuestra manera
encendió un fósforo, se acostó en la cama
esperando que sus sueños la traigan de vuelta, es triste
y su santidad es prueba, dijeron
solo podría amarte, se dice
oh en su último aliento, creyendo
hará su camino
si ella no es olvidada
está embrujado
está buscando escapar
si solo un deseo pudiera traerla de vuelta, se envía
y su santidad es prueba, se dice