Astrakhan - Hatchet

Gathered here to lay to rest:
Our thought of malice and discontent.
Our word in stone: a libel unveiled.
A while now I'll rest.
Alive and awake.

Dressed in black, a summer's
Our sweating necks reflected in
A glimmering spade.

Spare from the wear,
Spare the cool touch of clay.

Cut by the blade
Infected it swells, and it pains me again Left to erode
The shallowest grave
The hatchet buried
But still it is within our reach.

Can't forget or forgive
Can't forsake the foreseen
Deep in our heart hate lives.

We bury this hatchet
We cover the blade
Watch the ceremony fade

It was you who buried it here
It's my wound my burden to bare.