Father, Why These Stones

Oh father, why these stones? How they break our hearts
What do they mean? It’s hard to tell
Born restless inside heaven’s ungrateful gates
So we turned it all into hell
Now my branches, once young and tender
Lay but a pile of dying embers
Oh father, why these stones?
Father, why these stones?
Oh, the days rolled on and our homes we made
Under a slowly fading sun
And we drank our memories into their graves
While we toast to all things young
Do you remember, brother, you and me
Stealing eggs just to throw against the widest tree
And lightly we’d run?
How guiltless we’d run
Well, our cups were filled and our doubts were stilled
As we laid down in our beds
So free of fear, so we toiled the years
Composing ghosts inside our heads
As those youthful days do leave
Now nothing more than the air we breathe
With sorrow in their stead
Only sorrow in their stead
How we stumble freely into the dark
And find our gods all made of stone
Leave our poor dear mothers with broken hearts
While our angels aimlessly roam
We took all our greatest chances
On lost causes through faded glances
That took us far from home
Now I want to go home
So we rob the graves of older days
Just to see where we went wrong
We speak their words and we walk their ways
And we sing loud the old-time songs
And we inscribe their words that give us rest
On the tablet of our living breast
As it carries us along
Oh, won’t you carry me along?
Oh, won’t you carry me along?