Shallow Graves

(A Maudlin Country Song)

Listen to the graves and the graves are bawling,
sad and tearful ‘cus no one’s calling
their names.
They’re forgotten just the same.

The dead still love the ones who didn’t
pay attention when they were in it;
neglectful takers whose appreciation,
ignored syncopation.

Listen to stones weeping under the willows
sad and lonesome with dirt for pillows.
Cedar-sheltered from pouring rain,
they’re drowning just the same.

The dead are devoted most entirely
to imperfect moments between soulless bodies,
to lover’s with empty recollections
of the coffin’s collections.

Doesn’t really matter if they found love truly,
rightly, thusly or over-duly,
dead tears are shed for the callous wasters,
for love’s criminal erasures.