St. Peter's Cemetery

beneath the lilac tree in your white dress that’s the clearest way I remember
you and all the rest seems so sad and hazy but lovely nonetheless
took me through your father’s farm behind the hill down to st. peter’s cemetery
yard for your mother we brought flowers in a jar
I could be much better than I am
I could be much better than I am
and I know that to be true for I was when I was young and still with you
and though I never saw you lose one tear I recall you distant you seemed so
wise and without fear I guess death did age you far beyond your years and I’d
be hypnotized when you sang or spoke for your voice was haunted believed in
witches believed in ghosts when the night sighs and wind cries I still do I
suppose
I could be much better than I am
I could be much better than I am
and I know that you’d agree for I was when you were young and still with me
beneath the lilac tree your picture old and it soon will fade to black where
all the sunken stones of memory lay to deep for me to go but I see the way the
golden road above the gate a sight reads welcome all your weary souls I passed
it by I don’t know why I did not go
I could be much better than I am
I could be much better than I am
and I know that to be true and I know that you’d agree I was young and still
with you you were younger still with me