There’s freedom in a fire, but there’s flowers down on that funeral pyre
It’s something that you learn, that you can never just let it burn
Am I strong enough to lift another box down into its crypt
Without losing my grip?
We’re not supposed to think about it, it’s supposed to be a gift
There’s safety in a crowd, but we’re all alone beneath our funeral shroud
And I’ve known it since my birth, that heaven means returning to the earth
Am I strong enough to lift another box down into its crypt
Without losing my grip?
We’re not supposed to question it, it’s supposed to be a gift
And even it you don’t believe, it doesn’t make it any easier to leave
If there’s nothing inside, it doesn’t make it any easier to say goodbye
There’s freedom in a fire, but there’s a person down beneath that funeral pyre
Am I strong enough to lift another box down into its crypt
Without losing my grip?
We’re not supposed to cry about it, it’s supposed to be a gift.
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