I know your heart felt wrong this morning
You couldn't decide if it felt like a fire or a frost
But most of the summer felt like winter and most of the winter felt like hell
I'm sure you've been trying your hardest to remember him
You knew it, believed with all your heart that he was the only thing keeping you alive
That you would die without him
But it's been one hundred and sixty-two days since he was by your side
And even though you can barely breathe
You still spend the first half hour in bed at night
Seeing his chest move slowly and bravely up and down
You always tried to breathe like that
Maybe one day when you're all grown up and can fit into the loafers he left behind...
Without him you're poor in spirit, and you sure feel humble and weak and trampled upon
And you've always had to lie and steal to survive
But how many times can a kid lie or steal until he's kicked out of Heaven for good?
With every story you weave, you feel a tremor in the floor
Like it's just going to crumble beneath you any instant, and that's how you'll go
But do you remember that book Daddy read to you those nights in that hotel room?
Those were the moments that felt like Heaven