He digs a grave
In his Sunday best
He says a prayer
Where his child will rest
He believes his son is blessed
His soul will rise again
He leans into the shovel
The shovel leans into the earth
The earth gives little by little
Until he is done with his work
Our lady of the Guadalupe above the marigolds
Dia de los muertos entre los angelitos
His wife made a wreath of flowers
In honor of their son
Who went to school one morning
And never came back home
Calle de los niños
Until the streets take them in
Wrap them up in darkness
And spit them back out again
Our lady of the Guadalupe above the marigolds
Dia de los muertos entre los angelitos
There's beer cans between the headstones
Weeds between the mounds
A broken lock guards the chain link fence
Circling the grounds
He sees the row of headlights
They glitter like a star
Coming up the gravel drive
Behind a long black car
The family gathers in a circle
The circle leans into the grave
The grave leans into the parents
Of the child they could not save
He says a prayer
In his Sunday best
Over the grave
Where his child will rest
He believes
His son is blessed
His soul will rise again
His child will rise …
Our lady of the Guadalupe above the marigolds
Dia de los muertos entre los angelitos