Nothing grows
In a bone garden.
Winds that scrape
Cross the plains
Of an old bargain.
Driftwood trees
Sway and creak
In their hard dust beds.

Sticks and stones,
Nothing grows
In a bone garden.

I can scream in anger;
I can cry.
But god is just as dead
In the end
As you or I.
How could they let it end?
Never the same again.
How could they let it end?
Nothing here but death.

Sticks and stones,
Nothing grows
In a bone garden.
Winds that scrape
Cross the plains
Of an old bargain.
Driftwood trees
Sway and creak
In their hard dust beds.

Sticks and stones,
Nothing grows
In a bone garden.

Calling all souls.
Never be the same.

I can throw my hands up
Pleading to the sky.
I can pound the ground
Foot and fist
Demanding why.

Is anyone there?
Is anyone there?
Calling all souls.

Sticks and stones,
Nothing grows
In a bone garden.