Brace yourself under mistletoe
Shaking hands underneath the snow
I hate myself for picking up the phone
I don't think you're ever coming home
Remember the fruit of the past
I do not like to
I'm killing the tree that you left
I don't think I'm like you
Your ashes arrived, I don't think that I'm ready
I wasn't expecting them to be heavy
Walk around the house talking to daddy
Talking to you like you're still here
I hate myself for picking up the phonе
At least you could have died whilе you were home
Remember the fruit of the past
I do not like to
I'm killing the tree that you left
I don't think I'm like you
