The Ditchdigger from The Retributionists by Mark Lenover

He wakes up alone and he pours a stiff drink
puts on his work clothes and he tries not to think
of the skulls in the back room that once bore the flesh
of one young man's dreaming, put sadly to rest

He bites the bullet hard, 'till his mouth stinks of rust
He traded his heart, and the heat and the dust
for a ghost world of cold, rotting numbness and shame
A lead weight on his tongue and an X for a name
His future for bones
and a ditch of his own

Though the suns shreds him cruelly, there's ice on his brow
He leans on his shovel and wonders at how
boys with such promise grow into such men
who empty these graves just to fill them again

He picks at his sores, he sets his shovel down
He traded his heart for a hole in the ground
and a ghost world of cold, rotting numbness and shame
a lead weight on his chest and an X for a name

• Alternative
• alt pop
• dark
• rock
• sad
• singer-songwriter
• Canada