A year to the day and I still feel the same, still remember. Oh I still can feel the grain coarsing on my palms. Once this rain stops pounding I'll put paper sailboats on the grave. Time heals no wounds. So I watched the needles fall the tree as it muttered the loneliest soliloquoy, to an audience that only wanted sleep, of living wild and free, instead of wilting in this dirt. Deep in the earth, hidden from the light, the spades gonna find you. The suns gonna find you. Wedged in the sheets, hiding from the cold, the walls are gonna crumble. The weather's gonna find you. Left in the past, hiding from the truth, the future's gonna find you. You're gonna find you.