I came across an old graveyard
Using sticks and stones as their final mark
To keep account as to who they were
Buried souls in red clay dirt

Fathers, Mothers, Sisters, Brothers
Full time friends, part time lovers
Without a name they're just a number
Making it hard to tell, one from another

Life might hold a soul that remembers
But when truth be told we're all but embers
That lose their glow in the dead of Winter
Along with the hope that we've been here

Without a name to mark the grave
And a few kind words as a going away
Of course, a tombstone does not a person make
But how do you know, without a name