Christopher

Up on a mountain over the plains

Christopher sat with his hands to his face

This urn is her casket, this ash her remains

It doesn't feel right just to throw it away

So he kept it with him everywhere that he strayed

With long narrow shadows he shouldered the weight

If I keep her with me, then I'll keep her safe

He choked down the words that he wanted to say

Wish I could run from the place that poisons my passion away

Wish I never wrote her anything

Let this be the last song I sing

Grooves in his shoulders, the urn still in his clasp

Christopher struggled against the river so fast

Imaginary messiahs like the world on his back

Pushed him under the current where he drowned with the ash

There's no moral to your story

Yeah they're lying again my friend

There's no moral to your story, my friend

Say goodbye to the place that poisons your passion away

If you write a lost love anything

Don't let it be the last song you sing