The speaker is addressing a former lover, or at least someone they were once devoted to, and they feel completely used up. They insist they never lied, even claiming they would once have died for this person. Now they describe themselves as already dead, discarded like a tool once it stopped being useful. The "death" seems to be emotional: the heart is "six feet underground" while the spirit drifts over the town.
The tone is bitter and accusing, but there is grief under the anger. The speaker asks to be buried with the other person's memories, among childhood toys and old lovers and enemies, as if to say they'll haunt that past forever. There is also a cold warning that the other person will die too. The final lines flip the repeated claim of honesty: the speaker says the other person lied, and still does. The mood is dark, resentful, and quietly heartbroken.