The story (Marcell Julia)

I remember there's a story Of a woman sentenced to death She called up her kids and husband Said I won't come home today And I won't come home tomorrow No I won't come on Saturday And I won't get there on Christmas No I won't come on Mother's day. So they burned all her belongings To kill lonliness when night falls And the room they used to sleep in Stood there blushing from the naked walls And with every dress thrown into fire He would want her more than he ever did And with every ruby lipstick He felt trapped in his own guilt. So he wrote an awkward letter From the bottom of his fragile heart; See, I never thought I loved you But the silence tore me apart With your death in all it's glory It's no time for me to live I remember there's a story Of a man sentenced to grieve...