Richard Buckner Dogwood
I feel just like a dogwood tree,
Yeah somebody come carved a cross outta me.
Carried me down to Jerusalem,
And people they gave me to the carpenter’s son.
Yeah they carried my weight up the Golgotha plain,
The sky turned black, and Lord it started to rain.
Police with their hammers drove his white hands into me,
And made him a part of the dogwood tree.
Yeah, he may be gone far away from here,
The sun may shine bright and the sky might be clear.
But the iron that they used to nail him to me,
Lingers dark in the bark of the dogwood tree.
