Are you the bastard son or am I? You contrived a semblance of truth, sugar coated in lies. I buried my dead, parted ways with their grave sites, while you remain in support of those who have already died.
Let me ask, what kind of man who never walked with the dead could refuse, even yet, to give the living a chance? So drop your gloves and tow your hearse. Until the dead walk the earth, keep your hands out of the dirt.
You're trying to wake the safe and sound. I'm trying to see the world as more than a memorial ground. So drop your shovel. It's no help. There's nothing to be found in the land of the devout.
Are you the one who's damned or is that title all mine? You took all I love and threw my heart off time. Now I never hold my breath past the gates at night. Instead, I sing graveyard songs that go something like:
What if grave robbers are not so different from me? They're always digging for something and they never sleep. What if I can never seem to leave this cemetery? As long as I'm surrounded by memories...
A grave robber's all I'll ever be. A grave robber's all I'll ever be. So get your white sheet, lay me underneath. Take what you need, but let my body rest in peace.