The Turning of the Bones

It’s the little things that you forget
It’s the pieces you will never find
And can’t quite put your finger on
That you will miss the most
Weave me in your branches
Don’t put me to the test
There is no fat left to chew upon these bones
We took you all into our hearts
And we raised you as our own
And what we built in secret made us weak
Well, it wasn’t built to last
We knew our strength lay in defeat
And we will dance ourselves to sleep
And we will dance ourselves to sleep
Weave me
Into your branches, I belong here
Tonight we wake the dead
As sure as the river bleeds into the sea
I will drink myself into your wooden arms
And we
We will dance ourselves to sleep