We don't talk about it We don't talk at all The bouquet decays In the back seat every fall Any loving gesture seems a bit too much A calloused comfort, the coldest touch Is the only thing we can still consider ours I replace the vase as she waits in the car All the talks and tests; the terrible twos The "I'm sorry son. We've done all we can do"s Its never a good time to get bad news And you're never too old to die too soon We put all of our wishes upon a falling star Now I replace the vase and she waits in the car Tiny footprints, tiny hands Tiny heart beats echo in... Wars were waged in heaven every second that you lived A choir of paper angels still sings above an empty crib And you were such a fighter You gave them both right and left It's not how you take the punches It's how you take your breaths