Folded Hands

I’m not a praying man
But i’ve got folded hands and a church pew
I wanna believe in you
I’ve said all those words
Still I don’t have enough nerve to come and visit your grave
I’m not brave
Home doesn’t feel like home
I walk through the door
And every single thing has changed
Nothing feels the same
I look at the couch
Where you use sit and sit so empty now
But i know you’re proud
I will drop my proud
I’ll visit you when the time feels right
When the time feels right
I’ll bring flowers and a shirt
Six feet under the ground
And you’re still the best part of this earth
It hurts