In our days we will live like our ghosts will live
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pitching glass at the cornfield crows and folding clothes
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like stubborn boys across the road, we¡¯ll keep everything
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Grandma¡¯s gun and the black bear claw that took her dog
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And when sister Lowery says ¡°Amen,¡± we won¡¯t hear anything
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The ten-car train will take that word, that fledgling bird
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and the fallen house across the way, it¡¯ll keep everything
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the baby¡¯s breath, our bravery wasted and our shame
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And we¡¯ll undress beside the ashes of the fire
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Both our tender bellies wound in baling wire
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All the more a pair of underwater pearls
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Than the oak tree and its resurrection fern
|
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In our days, we will say what our ghosts will say
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¡°We gave the world what it saw fit, and what¡¯d we get?¡±
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Like stubborn boys with big green eyes, we¡¯ll see everything
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in the timid shade of the autumn leaves and the buzzard¡¯s wing
|
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Then we¡¯ll undress beside the ashes of the fire
|
Our tender bellies all wound around in baling wire
|
All the more a pair of underwater pearls
|
Than the oak tree and its resurrection fern
|
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Resurrection Fern
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| Iron & Wine |
