Thrice - Child of dust

Dear ^AmProdigal, you are my son and ^EmI Supp^Flied you not your spirit, but your ^Cshape ^G All ^AmEden's wealth arrayed before your ^Emeyes I ^Ffathomed not you wanted to ^Gescape^Em

And ^Amthough I only ever gave you ^Emlove Like ^Fevery child you've chosen to reb^Cel ^G Upr^Gooted flowers and filled the holes with ^Amblood Ask ^Dmnot for whom they toll the solemn ^Gbells

A ^CChild Of Dust, to mother now ^Emreturn For ^Amevery seed must die before it ^Ggrows And ^Fthough above, the world may toil and ^Cturn No ^Gprying spade will find you here ^G7below

Now ^Csafe beneath their w^Gisdom and their f^Feet Here ^CI will teach you tr^Guly how to sl^Feep