The ground is cold You're home now We put a blanket on you I didn't understand The power of my hands Till I scratched your head On that September day I didn't understand The power of my hands Till I scratched your head On that September day Later I couldn't breathe when I saw the line Outside waiting Just to say goodbye How could that thing sleeping in a casket once be alive? But that was never really you You were in the music You were in the air And you sang about butterflies And you sang about butterflies And you sang