The bones of children in the woods
The broken branches of a tree
The feel of pounding in your blood
The smell of earth beneath your feet

Don’t forget to wear your gloves
Don’t forget to wear your shoes
It’s started hailing from above
The sky is purple as a bruise

And so it gets under your nails
So it gets into your nose
And so it gets into your eyes
You’ll never get it out your clothes

We have to even out the piles
They’ll see the earth is freshly turned
They’re bound to be here in a while
They’ll find whatever isn't burned

All these children in the woods
What does it matter here today
It isn’t bad it isn’t good
They’d only grow up anyway