We don't talk about it
We don't talk at all
The bouquet decays
In the back seat every fall
Any loving gesture seems a bit too much
A calloused comfort, the coldest touch
Is the only thing we can still consider ours
I replace the vase as she waits in the car
All the talks and tests; the terrible twos
The Im sorry son. Weve done all we can dos
Its never a good time to get bad news
And you're never too old to die too soon
We put all of our wishes upon a falling star
Now I replace the vase and she waits in the car
Tiny footprints, tiny hands
Tiny heart beats echo in...
Wars were waged in heaven every second that you lived
A choir of paper angels still sings above an empty crib
And you were such a fighter
You gave them both right and left
It's not how you take the punches
It's how you take your breaths