I come from a long line of dead people I come from a tall pile of bones My people lie sleeping all under the world Their souls turn to roots leaves and stones
My grandpa went by whiskey in an LA hotel His dad died of Ohio coal And before him and before that they slipped under the ground Fewer bones walk above than below
My great grandmother's eyes look out of my face Her skinny bones dance around in my clothes You can almost hear the whisper of her sweet southern song In this voice I've been calling my own.
A toast to the living Watch us walk down the aisle So these bones can be married To this flesh for a while A song, a song for the living Though this flesh worries when These bones will be leaving To join family again...