If I bury my self, today where would I lie?
On a hill over looking a younger me, when I was held up high.
When I was cherished by my mother more than me;
By the father for the fact that I was what he used to be.
If I bury my self, today where would I lie?
In a field where a younger me would lay with womankind.
When I was loved for what I did. I acted when I was young.
For all the potential that I had. For what I might become.
If I could meet that younger me, perchance before I die,
I might tell him all I’ve learned. Would he ask me, ‘why?
Why spoil all the pain for me, everything I’ll endure?’
I was much wiser when I was younger, of this I am sure.

If I had to bury my self, today where would I lie?
Hopefully alone with no one else to cry.
Please don’t shed any tears for me; those I don’t deserve.
Don’t celebrate my being; act as if I never were.
For when I bury my self on the day before I die,
I’ll dig my grave in a riverbed, long since gone to dry.
Baked in unforgiving sun, where waters rarely rise,
I’ll bury me in cracking earth deep enough to hide.
And when the waters return, for surely as they’ll leave,
It’ll wash away the memories, what few you’ve had of me.