By Mason Pfaff<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Flowers on every road
lead me to my grave stones
There's a blue box, my heirloom.
A white stone white stone
A name not my own
I'll smell every one,
I'll find my name in the Popol Vuh.
White stone white stone
Bearing your maiden name
Palm branches laid on Monday
Skipped town Friday,
what I would do I do not know.
White stone white stone
My father's name is put on me
Names I do not know.
Names that came before
etched on a blue box,
my heirloom for storage
White stone white stone
My father's name has grown on me
I visit the old creek;
It trickles as before,
When my dog brought back a deer antler
And I fell in through the ice
White stone white stone
My father's sins my own
No names underwater,
No names beneath the ice
I breathe the cold water,
I reach the river's mouth
There with all from before,
Soon with all yet to be.
No white stone no white stone,
I know all the names,
The blue box is full and passed down again
No white stone, oh white stone,
I know this name,
Oh white stone oh white stone
It is my own, it is my own, it is my own
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