Low moon sparkling
Lights on the ball
Calls me beckoning
Brings me home
So when I die
Lord, don't bury me deep
Under the sycamore tree
Burn me
Spread me
Where the city can be seen
Slow fumes fading
Lights dancing in the hall
Calms me reckoning
My veins are rust and chrome
So when I die
Lord, don't bury me deep
Under the sycamore tree
Burn me
Spread me
Where the city can be seen
No tomb waiting
No name etched upon the wall
To mourn me echoing
In an empty ivory dome
So when I die
Lord, don't bury me deep
Under the sycamore tree
Burn me
Spread me
Where the city can be seen
Where the city can be seen
