It feels like countless years have passed Since you came to me and asked The question, and our oaths we swore Under a little sycamore Through summer nights, safe from harm We laid under the leafy arms Unknown of what years would bring So certain about everything From a seed to fully grown Branches hanging long and low Thick enough to hold a swing What a joy a tree could bring Our family grew bigger there But shadows seemed to fill the air Tried so hard to grow my roots As years went by with abuse When it's time to rest your weary head I swear I'll still be there Then came the day the tree had seen Too much and all the brightest leaves Were fading down, green to brown Slowly falling to the ground Bark still full of earthly grace Wrinkled like my sorrowed face This is the day this sycamore Doesn't stand tall anymore I cut it down and cut the boards Eighty and four inches tall With father's chisels and a plane I work through the morning and the day While hammering the final nails I knew this was the time and place I heard you shouting through the door And grabbed my axe up from the floor The grave that's big enough for two Glistening with morning dew Now holds the one I couldn't trust Earth to earth and dust to dust And in the place where tree once grew Now lays a box I made for you Colors start to paint the sky As trees rustle this lullaby When it's time to rest your weary head I swear I'll still be there