Our Graveyard

On the back of the winds
Souls are carried away

They blow threw the trees
To our graveyard, of sorts

Can't you hear them dying
Those poor broken hearts

Broken by men
With savage like ways

Broken by men
Who can't care less either way

And when you come here
We'll fix you up nice

We'll take you and mend you
And sew you a crooked heart

And you can try to go back
To the life you once lived

But those savage like men
With their savage like ways

Will be waiting for you
Waiting each day

So once you come here
You'll always return

You'll always return
With a new broken heart

You'll always return
To our graveyard, of sorts.