Blue Bell Hill

He drives through the night as his windshield is beaten with tears

As the chills down his spine say the end of his path's growing near

He's been here before and the map's been carved into his family tree

Maybe it's luck, or it's just how his old man could be

He turns off his headlights and empties the tools from his trunk

A flashlight, a shovel, his birth name carved into a rock

Feels over-dramatic, but he wasn't there with his dad that night

So all he's to do is make sure this tradition's done right

He digs in the rain 'cause the dirt takes a shovel more easily

He needs all of the help he can get, because he's digging deep