We boiled the sweet berries in May
We sang while the pots woke the day
We sealed every jar with a kiss
We swore it would stay like this
The lid on the jar won't come off
The spoon makes a sound like a cough
The table has scratches of age
The pantry has turned to a cage
The jars of our jam have gone cold
The table where we laughed looks old
I feel the slow chill that takes hold
The story of us is now told
The jars of our jam have gone cold
The table where we laughed looks old
I feel the slow chill in my soul
The prayer of our youth is untold
The lid on the jar won't come off
The spoon makes a sound like a cough
The table has scratches of age
The pantry has turned to a cage
The jars of our jam have gone cold
The table where we laughed looks old
I feel the slow chill that takes hold
The story of us is now told
The jars of our jam have gone cold
The table where we laughed looks old
I feel the slow chill in my soul
The prayer of our youth is untold
