| My father was a carpenter
|
| My mother, she died young
|
| I’m the eldest of my brothers
|
| You’re the trouble in my blood
|
| Trouble in my blood
|
| I swore that I’d stay humble
|
| Like my father was before
|
| He built the home I live in
|
| Of sand and mud and smoke
|
| Sand and mud and smoke
|
| Yes, we will leave here without a trace
|
| Take a new name and an old shape
|
| I’ll be no outlaw, no renegade
|
| Just your faithful god of loss
|
| So meet me by the river
|
| On a boat-shaped piece of earth
|
| We press our bones together
|
| And the spider does its work
|
| With flakes of garlic
|
| And petals from a rose
|
| If it’s small enough to carry
|
| You and I can call it home
|
| You and I can call it home
|
| Yes, we will leave here without a trace
|
| Take a new name and an old shape
|
| I’ll be no outlaw, no renegade
|
| Just your faithful god of loss |