He doesn't ask why he just goes, when I go my bones will know
I've been told that my family's bones
O but when I go with my lot in tow
O grow, grow, grow, grow, grow
My heart is a cold acre, in my chest is a cold acre
To the place of my death to the plots of my birth
Though I wake from them mouthing
With my little bag, with my little dog
To leave his old fellow and find a new pillow
They leave me not able to talk
With my little bag, with my little dog
But realms I've been choosing to walk
When I go, my dog will know
Where there's joy in the living, voices that ring in the air
Far from the chill of the cold acre
I don't grow any good anymore though I've seeded my soul
I'd stay there but sooner or later I'd have to go
Except there's one that you have, one that you had
Nothing's cold acre in a cold acre
I don't grow any good anymore though I've seeded my soul
Like a vampire carry my piece in the earth
Now there's a Hillydale here and a Lilydale there
Where I don't know but when a dog knows it's on him
I don't grow any good anymore from the bad
With all kinds of love that don't grow in a cold acre
All these dreams are not nightmares
To pick up and follow the wagon that rolls on the cold acre
My heart is a cold acre and my chest is a cold acre
With all kinds of love, that it aches so
Who sleeps on my chest
Who rests on my stomach and barks at the oncoming fog
When he can't find a hole in a log
May lie under the snow there
