What We Lost

Well I was born of the earth with my hands to the sky.
And I'll die in the dirt on the fourth of July.
And my body will burst into millions of sparks.
And I'll hang like a ghost in the trailer park until I'm gone.
I was born of the earth with my hands to the sky.
And I'll die in the dirt on the fourth of July.
And my body will burst into millions of sparks.
And I'll hang like a ghost in the trailer park until I'm gone.
And I can hear the wind blow.
It sounds like angels and babies breath.
So leave some dirt in my hands.
Lay my body in the street.
And I'll be searching out God.
To lay my stones at her feet.
And when the winds lay waste.
To the fields and the stars.
I'll be spinning my home in the back of your car
Until it's done.
And I can hear the wind blow.
It sounds like angels and babies breath.
And I can see my mother's praying hands.
Like petals in the wind sweeping across my yard.