Funeral For A Friend

I’ve come to bury a corpse, metaphorically speaking.
The body was killed by your cowardice, your excuses,
the need to be always right, no matter the blood on your hands.

A cross has a sharpened end, and it’s blunted my heart.
If I speak of god, you reply. If I speak of my dreams, silence.
If I speak against you, I get your “Father” voice.

Not your fault what happened, but you didn’t have to cover for them.
You didn’t have to sigh and say it doesn’t matter. “Father”, fuck you!
You’ve got even more skin in this then I do, asshole!
 So I’ll see you every day, and smile through heartbreak
and a head full of bad shit, just keep smiling, as always.
But you are not my friend, and I have no use for your bullshit!

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