Post by Artaxerxes/SweetIrony on Oct 4, 2006 22:04:40 GMT -5
It isn't the losing that hurts, sir, it's the loss.
Walking my homeland as the twilight falls
In all these places I once left behind,
Oh anguish! Once fair land, that I should find
No light, no light in all your darkened halls.
It is this emptiness that breaks my heart,
This silence broken only by low groans
Where once glad voices spoke in cheerful tones;
All gone, all gone, now lost and torn apart.
Hard on the headstones now the cold rain drums,
Here where once hope, new life were to be found.
The dead are massing on this sacred ground;
They wait, they wait but no salvation comes.
In grip of death my mother land is caught;
Cold are her arms now, shrouded is her face.
I look to find of life and hope a trace;
Alas, alas, I search but find it not.
Walking my homeland as the twilight falls
In all these places I once left behind,
Oh anguish! Once fair land, that I should find
No light, no light in all your darkened halls.
It is this emptiness that breaks my heart,
This silence broken only by low groans
Where once glad voices spoke in cheerful tones;
All gone, all gone, now lost and torn apart.
Hard on the headstones now the cold rain drums,
Here where once hope, new life were to be found.
The dead are massing on this sacred ground;
They wait, they wait but no salvation comes.
In grip of death my mother land is caught;
Cold are her arms now, shrouded is her face.
I look to find of life and hope a trace;
Alas, alas, I search but find it not.