The Grave

[final song in a trilogy: The Cradle, The Palace, The Grave. All three have taken me the last four years to complete and can now be found on Opuss. I hope you find meaning somewhere!]

Age is a terrible thing
In beauty and in pain
Becoming wise and loved
Becoming old and grey
But pity is an insult of sorts
Assuming that they feel
Sorry for themselves
Inhuman and unreal

And youth isn't easy either
It comes in bouts and sways
It burns you up like fever
Then leaves you low for days
And children can be cruel
They say just what they mean
Yeah, children can be cruel
The way you are to me

You came, you stayed
In a palace beneath the waves
You rocked yourself to sleep
From your grave will grow the tree
You came, you stayed
In a palace beneath the waves
You rocked yourself to sleep
From the cradle to the grave

I want my body buried
Please don't burn my bones
I want to move through the earth
In many varied forms

J. x