The thing about grief is   It knows what I did and   It knows what I did not say.   It sentenced me to a life of excavating   Things my little head can not understand   But I patched it all together with string andn rubber bands.      The thing about grief is   Few people know that the I goes before the E   And it's hard to give away because it's   The last thing you gave to me.   I've scrambled it together and   Collaged it in a lighted frame   Sometimes I'm scared to speak your name.      Ooh you were young a beautiful   You should have grown to be old   Like I'll grow old - no you will not.   You left me here to join the dots   I'm gonna speak them.      The thing about grief is   It took what I loved and it buried her deep away.   It makes no sense but it's interesting in it's own way.   Some days I still assume I'm gonna see your face again   But I always assume.      The thing about grief is   It gets kind've boring for the   People who don't yet know.   Your friends - some they will wander off and   Most will wish you'd just move on sister.   But black is the colour 'cause it   Doesn't seem to have an end   I've heard it changes and   You'll make new friends.      Oooh - you were young a beau-ti-ful.   You should have grown to be old   I will grow old, no you will not.   You left me here to join the dots.   I'm gonna speak them.