What's the point in listening when your words are filled with lies A spoken sense of burning down your bridges and your ties Phone calls laced with memories of what will never be The judge's voice is cold and clear No more family We'll be buried in a graveyard, next to my childhood It's just a place I visit because it'll do me good When I grow up, I will thank you and Dad for this But I won't pretend I forgive you when you say: Sorry, kids What's the point in listening when your words are filled with lies A spoken sense of burning down your bridges and your ties Phone calls laced with memories of what will never be The voice of Death is cold and clear No more family We'll be buried in a graveyard, next to my childhood The eulogy suggests that we once said: We could Life is not about us, for you and Dad at least So don't expect forgiveness when you say: We're sorry We stand on our own, looking for a place to call our home