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