Sometimes, the crypt is a grassy plain in the open air. Who’s to say why it’s here, why it’s there, why it’s everywhere. The crypt is the crypt is the land is the sea is the sky is the dirt is the glass is the moon. Nothing here is real except the dead. The dead are tangible, and we are they.Music Credit:Come to Me Softly – The FleetwoodsUntil the Next Time (End Title) – John Harrison