Foolsong
That fool who digs his own grave
"I'm still trying to find my way out!
But if it's the long way
I'll sleep in this bed I've made."
The kids have fallen on blades
It's too late to figure out
It's too late for babies to beg for their beds
It's too late to ignore the storm up ahead
It's too dark to see my way out
Now all I can do about anything wrong
Is dig further down
Further down
When we finally awake
We'll burn our bodies on stakes
A tower of ashes and sawdust will lie
Where our castles were made