It's quiet in the cemetery
next door, new life rushes
past over iron bars
and this makes me crazy, it thunders
through the rooms where I played

I empty them out and I smoke them out
with Nag Champa, with tears
in my eyes I close the windows
and still the walls get thicker
from the raging, they eat it up

just like me, it haunts my mind
that there is a smell in the basement
where mammy in the rocking chair
commands that I am not as sweet
as her new friend

but I don't want a new friend
I want everything as it was
slow and simple
quiet and familiar, silence
without a graveyard