I like the cemetaries downtown
That’s where I take my sinking thoughts to drown
And when it rains on the gravestones, the moss is all around
And it covers marks on me I’ve never found

Death lies under a grassy sheath
Blades planted there like questions of belief
Usually I’m too trapped to think what stars I am beneath
Oh for one ghostly sign that I could reach

Oh Lord I’m a mile beyond the moon, mile beyond the moon I know
Oh Lord I’m a mile beyond the moon, and I don’t see no sign of you

Sometimes they’ll drive away my gloom
It’s like the citie’s most natural bedroom
And I’ve heard music coming from the stones
Guitar picker doing it for the bones