Wake up and smell the roses I left on your front porch
Wake up to the thousand letters that I wrote since you've been gone
Tell St. Peter at the gate that you're not done living
You float through the ceiling
You dance on our graves
I've gotta find a way to keep you here
There's no better feeling than having you stay
But I've gotta find a way to keep you here
Mother, counting the beads on her Rosary
If she only knew
Daughter, counting the glass stuck in her teeth
In the back of her skull
Tell St. Peter at the gate
Everything
I would change everything if you were still here
Wake up and smell the roses I left on your gravestone
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