Faith Taylor
I sit alone by the cemetery
Trying to distract myself from reality
The moon looks white and dark, welcoming and scary
And I wonder why I look at all these ghosts and feel no sentimentality
Well maybe there’s a little bit, for I feel a small pang of heartbreak
And as my I lips begin to quiver and my eyes begin to quake
I begin to blame myself, I could have saved her, I could have tried
Maybe if I had chosen not to drink my baby would still be alive.