Home For Grave, Pt. II The Devil Wears Prada

By the time she heard the news, the funeral had taken place;
But still the sadness transcended across a dozen states

She wished the trees weren’t so still

“Oh Anna, my dear!” she could nearly hear him
His words, sincere, the last time they’d spoken

Those moments in Indiana felt like yesterday
And that crash in Atlanta would always resonate

She wished the trees weren’t so still
As if the pines could weep with her
She wished the trees weren’t so still
As if the pines could weep

“Oh Anna, my dear!” she could nearly hear him
His words, sincere, the last time they’d spoken

In the forests of Oregon her breath grew shallow
The air was fractured in the morning storm
And Anna’s world felt hollow

She wished the trees weren’t so still
As if the pines could weep with her
She wished the trees weren’t so still
As if the pines could weep