Gabe:
They've managed to get rid of me
Return me to the grave.
ECT, electric chair
We shock who we can't save.
They've cleared you of my memory,
And many more as well
You may have wanted some of them,
But who can ever tell?
Your brainwaves are more regular,
The chemistry more pure;
The headaches and the nausea
Will pass and you'll endure;
Your son is gone forever, though,
Of that the doctor's sure.
The memories will wane
The aftershocks remain
You wonder which is worse
The symptom or the cure.
They've managed to get rid of me
I'm gone without a trace,
But sear the soul and leave a scar
No treatment can erase.
They cut away the cancer,
But forgot to fill the hole;
They moved me from your memory
I'm still there in your soul.
Your life goes back to normal now,
Or so they all believe.
Your heart is in your chest again,
Not hanging from your sleeve.
They've driven out the demons,
And they've earned you this reprieve:
The memories are gone
The aftershocks live on
But with nothing to remember,
Is there nothing left to grieve?