tale of two daughters

Did I go grave digging in a hay bale? Found a pin drop along the way Crossed the street too late If my memories correct I indeed suspect The beach was wide and wept My blank page stare sees Fire fiercely Meet the air If we repent beside our fathers Makes us a tale of two daughters Men in hard hats Dragging coal and lumber Keeps the chalice burning In the dead of summer The truth is right in front of us And I hate to see it through I love many You love few The truth is right in front of us And I hate to see it through I love many You love few The truth is right in front of us And I hate to see it through I love many You love few The truth is right in front of us And I hate to see it through I love many You love few