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Our hands are blistered from the toil
My eyes burn for sleep
Still we till the soil
Of the secret graves we each keep
But we buried the past
In a casket of glass
Buried the past
In a casket of glass...

Before we had shovels
Three children in a secret dance
How I miss the nuzzle
Of you eating from my hands
But I loved you both
Like you were my own
I loved you both
Like you were my own...

And sometimes I dig it up
And toy with the decomposing love
I swallow the sound of your names
Sugar coated razor blades
And I see your faces
In the strangest places
I see your faces
In the strangest places...