By a mortician
(Verse 1)
Formaldehyde scent like a winter night, starched linens whisper tales of fading light
Moonlight paints the chapel silver grey, where silent souls in satin slumber lay
My needles thread stories with silk and prayer, stitching peace onto faces etched with care
But tonight, my thread tangles on a memory, your laughter's echo in this cold sanctuary
(Chorus)
Embalming fluid can't mend a broken heart, no scalpel sharp enough to tear love apart
My hands that cradle final breaths in silk, tremble at the phantom touch of your ghostlike milk
This chapel hall, a stage for grief and grace, holds the hollow echo of your missing embrace
Got a love ache deeper than a winter's chill, no formaldehyde fix for this lonely bill
(Verse 2)
Polished mahogany coffins line the wall, holding secrets whispered in a lover's shawl
I've seen a thousand faces fade and fall, but yours, my love, haunts this sterile hall
Used to sing hymns of hope with solemn tones, now my voice cracks with whispers on cold cobblestones
My instruments of comfort, scalpel and suture, can't stitch together this love forever shattered
(Chorus)
Embalming fluid can't mend a broken heart, no scalpel sharp enough to tear love apart
My hands that cradle final breaths in silk, tremble at the phantom touch of your ghostlike milk
This chapel hall, a stage for grief and grace, holds the hollow echo of your missing embrace
Got a love ache deeper than a winter's chill, no formaldehyde fix for this lonely bill
(Bridge)
Maybe this house of endings ain't my fate, maybe my heart needs a sunlit gate
Trading scalpels for boots, I'll leave the dead to rest, follow the sunlit trail where your laughter's blessed
Love ain't a body on a marble slab, but a wildfire burning 'neath the moonlit gab
No embalming fluid for this lover's plight, gotta chase your ghost beneath the pale moonlight
(Chorus)
Embalming fluid can't mend a broken heart, no scalpel sharp enough to tear love apart
My hands that cradle final breaths in silk, tremble at the phantom touch of your ghostlike milk
This chapel hall, a stage for grief and grace, holds the hollow echo of your missing embrace
Got a love ache deeper than a winter's chill, no formaldehyde fix for this lonely bill
(Outro)
But dawn's fingers paint the chapel gold, and maybe this silence ain't meant to hold
Leaving needles and thread in the sterile light, chasing your sunrise 'til my love takes flight
Cuz a mortician's heart, when truly struck, finds its way back, even through the muck
Scalpel silent, boots beatin' on the rise, my love's found its cure beneath your golden skies
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Sunday, January 7, 2024
By a mortician
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