The rain pours down. On his cold, hard grave. I'm so upset and scared, Yet I don't know who to blame. The box is lifted up, and placed into the hole. And it seems to tell the story, of his troubled life told. The dirt is shovelled back in, And not a thought is given, To exactly what they're doing, For they're just paid to fill 'em. I sit now in my room, remembering that day. when his life was ended plainly, out of sight, out of way. But I will not forget him. For I will see him soon. And I tighten up the rope and take a last look at the moon.