I’m confused. Am I supposed to let you Rest In Peace, or tear open your chest and play with the withered little blood-pumper you keep in there?
Given my audience, I feel I have to ask.
I died so many years ago
You can make me feel like it isn’t so
Why you come to be with me
I think I finally know
You’re scared, ashamed of what you feel
And you can’t tell the ones you love
You know they couldn’t deal
Whisper in a dead man’s ear
It doesn’t make it real