Our Mortician’s Daughter
Julia Steiner
Running across the big, big mountain
There is no way to go
And, how many lives have reached their endings
Silently killed by the snowfall of the ghosts
Their bodies are clean, they make their music
From under rock n' roll
And, can we confirm their wayward spirits
Are something more than the souls of what we're told?
Channeling all these age-old questions
Mind knows where it's been
And, how does it always seem to happen
That daylight starts just as nighttime rushes in?
I don't know what to do without you
Look at the clock it's porcelain doll-face
Is actually made of snow
And, father awakes to greet the daylight
His great mortal cause has filled this heart with hope
