Will they bury me with their folding arms?
Who will cry for me when my kind is gone?
Tuck your head under your wing and sleep like a low-lying fog
I will come up at the end of the world to send you on your way
It's like poetry, birds fall dead from the sky
The ground is lace, the blood is silk
It's shattering and bright
Tuck your head under your wing and sleep like a low-lying fog
I will come up at the end of the world to send you on your way
I tell all my bones to remember me, and to mutter underground when I melt away
Tuck your head under your wing and sleep like a low-lying fog
I will come up at the end of the world to send you on your way
Will they bury me with their folding arms?
Who will cry for me when my kind is gone?
Tuck your head under your wing and sleep like a low-lying fog
I will come up at the end of the world to send you on your way