When the day, when the day falls to the light   At the end, oh the end of my time   I call to the dark take the bones off my back   And I chant to the black you were my lady divine      'Cause my children are in hiding   Mortor and pestle they grind      Those songs whistled through white teeth do scuff the days   With songs for children to sing   Those songs whistled through white teeth do scuff the days   With songs for children to sing      When the chairs are tucked into the fading song   And the silver of their pours has grown long   Oh, they call to the dark, take the bones off my back   And they chant to the black you were my lady divine   And they bloat like a bitter wine in their bellies      'Cause the bones have been removed   From their hunched over backs   And their children are all grown now   Mortor and pestle they grind      Those songs whistled through white teeth still scuff the days   With songs for children to sing   Those songs whistled through white teeth still scuff the days   With songs for children to sing   Those songs for children to sing