You loved me like your flesh and blood, the day you buried me in the clay.
Bury me deep, as I become a rainbow and hold me, hold me, deep within.
For today you must walk alone and you will hear the howling winds of grief.
Your hope will scatter like grains of sand and you will sob like heavy rain.
You will carry my name like thunder. But the drought of sorrow will be long.
Then the night will come, the night will come, oblivious and mystifying.
It is in this old and patient darkness, that you will learn who you really are.
You saw your own sad ending, in the terrible stillness of my soft grey face
and in my old dim eyes, where our lifelong love for each other escaped us.
I would comfort you, like I have always done, but I am gone. I am gone.
My uncle buried his dog, as the big land sighed, like a heart grown tired.
His dog's story ends as it began. Their journeying together is eternally over.
My Dear Uncle Kevin, just don't bury your love, like you buried your dog.
That is no way, for a human being to live. You must go on until the end.
"It giveth, it taketh away," he sobbed, as he buried the dog out in the scrub.
Whatever it gave me, I didn't ask for. Whatever it took, I wanted to keep.
Whatever I asked for, it wouldn't give. There is no-one left to bargain with.
At least there's still an old pub, with some dog-friendly owners back in town,
so we can all get drunk together and wait for the storms of longing to come.
