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I'm Working On That

Cult Of The Fox


I’m digging a grave for a child with no head
All is prepared but no last rites are read
As his worn-out carcass wilts in my hand
Innocence dies with the birth of a man

I found his body out in the Field
Where the winds blow fierce and the ground is unstable
His head was lost in a battle of faith
Where he fought for his life and gave all he was able

I’m digging a grave for a child with no head
All is done but no last rites are read
As his carcass wilts in my hand
Innocence dies with the birth of a man
There in his coffin he waits to be found
All dressed up for that trip under ground
Black suit, white gloves and a small tie to match
But what shall I do with that little black hat?
I’m working on that!

Memories show scars on his little body
He bled for the world now he’s bleeding for me
Something’s familiar ‘bout the way he lived
At closer inspection, I see; I was he

I’m digging a grave for that child with no head
All is done but no last rites are read
As his carcass wilts in my hand
Innocence dies with the birth of a man
There in his coffin he waits to be found
All dressed up for that trip under ground
Black suit, white gloves and a small tie to match
But what shall I do with that little black hat?
I’m working on that!

I’m digging a grave for that child with no head
All is done but no last rites are read
And I will stay with him through the end
As his carcass wilts in my hand
Innocence dies with the birth of a man
For no other soul can carry your sins
There in his coffin he waits to be found
All dressed up for that trip underground
But where he will go, he must go alone
Black suit, white gloves and a small tie to match
But what shall I do with that little black hat?
I’m working on that!

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