The God of Loss

My father was a carpenter

My mother, she died young

I'm the eldest of my brothers

You're the trouble in my blood

Trouble in my blood

I swore that I'd stay humble

Like my father was before

He built the home I live in

Of sand and mud and smoke

Sand and mud and smoke

Yes, we will leave here without a trace

Take a new name and an old shape

I'll be no outlaw, no renegade

Just your faithful god of loss

So meet me by the river

On a boat-shaped piece of earth

We press our bones together

And the spider does its work

With flakes of garlic

And petals from a rose

If it's small enough to carry

You and I can call it home

You and I can call it home

Yes, we will leave here without a trace

Take a new name and an old shape

I'll be no outlaw, no renegade

Just your faithful god of loss