There’s a crow on the fence, watchin’ slow as the sky
Turns a bruised kind of gold, like it knows how to lie
And the wheat leans west with a thousand small prayers
But the wind don’t answer, it just passes there
There’s a road made of dust that forgets every name
Where the stars bloom late and the silence came
I’ve been walking that line ‘til the boots wore thin
Tryin’ to trade my ghosts for a whisperin’ wind
So sing me low, sing me true
Like the pines do when they’re speaking to the moon
Fold me up in the cold, in the dim
Let me go quiet — like a low light hymn
There’s a bell in the barn that don’t ring no more
Just hangs like a truth we’ve learned to ignore
And the smoke from the field curls soft through the night
Like a secret too tired to put up a fight
So sing me low, sing me true
Like the pines do when they’re speaking to the moon
Fold me up in the cold, in the dim
Let me go quiet — like a low light hymn