Every Day a Weeping Curse

Another door open in my chest
Made of granite and oak
It melts away in the Sun
Leaving just the stone

Nowhere left to run
My hands are full at the end
I heave the last box of regret
Into the abyss
I stand and wonder: Who lives for me?
My tomb in amber
My life below the silt
My eyes are pure
Should I be buried at sea or sand?

I can fight again
All this bad blood
Turns black and blue
An elephant in this desert

Through the abyss