She cried, when I was born.
I cried, when she had gone.
She bled, when I was born.
She bled, when I was torn.
She was torn, when I was bled
She was done, when I had gone.
She cried, when I cried.
She smiled when I smiled.
She cried, when I walked,
With joy, she talked.
She cried, when I talked,
With joy, she walked.
The stories she told,
Are the berries I hold.
The memories I hold,
Are the stories she told.
She kissed my cold skin
Soaked in blood when I was born.
I kissed her cold in the coffin
Packed in when blood is gone.
I cried, when she had gone,
With the dead, to the mud.
I cried, when she had gone,
With joy, to the Lord.
