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