The Traveler

Gathered here to lay to rest
Our thought of malice and discontent
Our word in stone: A libel unveiled
A while now I'll rest
Alive and awake

Dressed in black, a summer's
Our sweating necks reflected in
A glimmering spade

Spare from the wear
Spare the cool touch of clay

Cut by the blade
Infected it swells, and it pains me again
Left to erode
The shallowest grave
The hatchet buried
But still it is within our reach

Can't forget or forgive
Can't forsake the foreseen
Deep in our heart hate lives

We bury this hatchet
We cover the blade
Watch the ceremony fade

It was you who buried it here
It's my wound my burden to bare