I won’t leave roses…

Just my pain.

Ernest Hemingway said, “There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” This is especially true of songwriting, at least for me. “Graveyard of My Heart” was inspired by a poem about the people who lay buried in the depths of our hearts - both the living and the dead.

  • The smell of rain reminds me

    Of the day you came and sat beside me

    First loves can be so exciting

    Until they stop pretending

    Black velvet dreams and silver rings

    Lie six feet under the things you didn't mean

    Now the rain can't wash away

    The bloodstains or my suffering

    Broken down and beaten

    I got tired of crying and bleeding

    I took a shovel and my trouble

    Left you dead and buried

    In the graveyard of my heart

    I won't leave roses

    Just my pain

    While our love decomposes

    Along with my old name

    Violent delights meet violent ends

    But this time it's by my own hands

    Now the rain can't wash away

    The bloodstains or my suffering

    Broken down and beaten

    I got tired of crying and bleeding

    I took a shovel and my trouble

    Left you dead and buried

    In the graveyard of my heart

    I miss the way I missed you

    When all I wanted was to kiss you

    Now, I recall our last embrace

    As bitter as the way you taste

    Yet, while you live

    A piece of me remains

    Through the years, the tears, and trouble

    Dead and buried

    In the graveyard of your heart