They come and go,
Time and time again,
No matter what I do, I always lose a friend.
Through deserts and tundras,
Snow and rain,
I feel the blood throughout my heart leak from out my veins.
They look at me so, so suspiciously still,
At my world filled with violence and the people who kill.
They then walk on along, with a strut of some kind,
It wasn’t us, It was you who did this crime!
No! Come back here, for I can not ever leave this grief,
Grief in fact not caused by me,
But the influence you had on my brothers,
Six feet deep.