Thrice - Child of dust

Dear pro^Amdigal, you are my son and ^GI Sup^Fplied you not your spirit, but your s^Chape.^G All E^Amden's wealth arrayed before your e^Gyes; I fat^Fhomed not you wanted to es^Gcape.

And th^Amough I only ever gave you l^Gove, like ev^Fery child you've chosen to r^Cebel;^{G G}uprooted flowers and filled the holes with b^Amlood; Ask n^Dot for whom they toll the solemn b^Gells.

A ch^Cild of dust to mother now re^Gturn; for e^Amvery seed must die before it g^Grows. And th^Fough above the world may toil and t^Curn, no p^Grying spade will find you here below.

Now s^Cafe beneath their wi^Gsdom and their f^Feet, here ^CI will teach you tr^Guly how to sl^Feep.