PSAP - *The Cactus and I

We buried your uncle, me and your grandad, on a rainy Tuesday in April
No parent should ever bury their child, let alone in the springtime
Behind the church, shadow of the cross
His grave was only six feet deep, but it felt like thirty miles across

When I met your mother, we were young and so in love
I was an olive branch, she was my dove
But something in her changed that warm and rainy day when we buried him and left him for dead
I was her husband, he was my brother, but I guess she always loved him instead

Mountains and valleys, June, July and May
August is fatal, summers in Santa Fe
Mountains and valleys, June, July and May
August is fatal, summers in Santa Fe

I guess maybe that's what I always worry about you and your brother all the time
Cuz I can't imagine life here in the desert, no one 'cept the cactus and I
I don't think I could ever look at your gravestone and finally tell you the truth
That the worst thing I ever did was to never take good care of you

Written by:
Andrew Skillern, Bryce Vehrs

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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