West Of Roan - Our Own Bodies

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We gather bodies from the roadside
And take them to our chamber
Light a candle, say what we find
That the spirit has gone away

We place a blade beneath the chin
And peel the skin from the bone
And underneath its widest tear
We find our own bodies there
We find our own bodies there

We sing a song of the dead gone home
Don't take us yet, don't take us yet
And with our blood we draw a door
And seal it shut, and seal it shut

And with the flame we make a window
So we may safely sing
The dead have gone, it's lonesome here
It's lonesome here

We gather bodies from the roadside
And take them to our chamber
Light a candle, say what we find
We find our own bodies there
We find our own bodies there
We find our own bodies there
 
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