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