Somewhere to Die Deep in the woods and dirt, In a bed of moss, I lay. And as my bones begin to show, I figure this is a good place to die. And maybe I’m not six feet deep, Maybe I’m already gone. Maybe the woods swallowed my sleep, Maybe I am the dawn. Flowers and ivy Will sprout from my grave, And spell out here shall lay A boy who knew the trees would listen Whenever he dared cry. I am those flowers, I am the lichen, And I am the birds who sing my praise, I am the trees, I am the soil, And by god, the forest spells my name.
