They were the best of friends,
living in the same small town,
both gave up everything
for the confessions they told
but they never told the truth
about that September night
and now they'll hang
in late December.

They'll hang until their feet touch the ground
for the crimes we all have done.
They'll hang until they fall to the earth
punished for a life they lived.

They swore to never speak
about the lies they had told
or the truth they had to live,
the people they were to ruin
the night they shot the moon
because one goes for the other,
never letting either one drown
in the frost-covered waves.

But they could never guess
those waves were waiting for them,
waiting to pull them under
on that December day
for those crimes, those times
that love would actually win.

They'll hang until their feet touch the ground
for the crimes we all have done.
They'll hang until they fall to the earth
punished for a life they lived.

And the last thing they see
are the branches of the old ash tree
and the eyes
of the people they love.