They died standing up,
Frozen with palms at their sides
A second December,
No less bitter than the first
Further and further beneath,
Dreams decay,
And days flew by like grains of sand,
With no one to catch them with outstretched hand

One by one the walls came down never to be built again

Turned from the pain
A body of empty regret
Faced in the end
With what you could not forget

The shadows grew longer against the old stone walls,
And the ox refused to pull the wagon forth
The wellspring which had turned the hills to green,
Dried up and bled them gray again
Time tugged harder against the revolving wheels,
Until they were silent and spun no more
A quiet descended from the heavens
And buried our acts in the veils of the past

Turned from the pain
A body of empty regret
Faced in the end
With what you could not forget

Turned from the pain
A body of empty regret
Resigned in the end
To what you would not forget