EVERY TIME I DIE – Indian Giver

No broken hearted people, no crash, no flame, no sermon at a casket nor a
howl into the grave. Every bone was in position, every hair was in position.
Every hair was in its place. A light comes. Pulled off a dark country road. New
roman suicide note. All the way closed. So it goes. No organs to be salvaged,
no teeth to be compared, we asked for no police involvement because we knew you
weren’t there. We threw a birthday party and at the table in your chair, a
lightness. Pulled off a dark country road. New roman suicide note. All the way
closed. So it goes. As long as your name is on my list or your story written in
the choruses then true death couldn’t get you. But when its spoken for the last
time, the weight is lifted. A third eye. So I make a vow to forget you.