Too Busy

The cold wind whistles through the graveyard A solitary man shuffles through He pauses for a moment to stare at the stone He doesn't seem to know what to do Her voice is an echoing memory He recalls the muted pain in her eyes The world seems a strange and different place When the one that close to you dies And he wishes he had done things better And he wishes he had given more time And he wishes he had let her touch his heart He was always too busy to gather the fruit When it was on the vine His sleep is fitful and broken He thinks he hears her steps passing by He dreams she is silently begging once more And even now he can't hear her cry And he wishes he had done things better And he wishes he had given more time And he wishes he had let her touch his heart He was always too busy to gather the fruit When it was on the vine And he wishes he had done things better And he wishes he had given more time And he wishes he had let her touch his heart He was always too busy to gather the fruit When it was on the vine Her voice is an echoing memory He recalls the muted pain in her eyes He dreams she is silently begging once more And even now he can't hear her cry And he wishes he had done things better And he wishes he had given more time And he wishes he had let her touch his heart He was always too busy to gather the fruit Always too busy to gather the fruit Always too busy to gather the fruit When it was on the vine