Des de Moor
Lyrics

Down the streets and past the rubbish heaps, the concrete ripped and thrown,
Comes the sound of hollow footsteps: the old man walks alone,
His eyes set deep in darkened sockets and his skin stretched taut and white,
But his ragged shoulders straighten in the sunbeam's ghostly light.

This war is long -- it drains the tears of spouses
As battlefields make memories of men.
Dull photographs on shelves of empty houses
Stand like the stones where flowers will bloom again.

Last night was cold: the sun anew caresses.
This life is poor, but sometimes bright with joy.
This strength is all a weakened heart possesses
With which to love the memory of a boy.

The early summer sun casts gold on tarmacadam.
A blade of green breaks through a broken paving stone.
While cities glow, this heart must in the sunlight gladden.
Where walls in darkness fall, this heart must glow alone.

The broken walls cast jagged shadows in the European town
And the whistle of the shells was breath to blow the houses down
And then the long awaited shudder of that shadow in the air...
Did it leave a breath of England through the smell of burning hair?

The television bulletins lag far behind the times:
So sickeningly simple just to read between the lines
But then the sickness in the stomach swells to sickness in the heart
As the shockwave still resounding tears another life apart.

This war is long: it drains the tears of spouses.
Still, private tears must fall to private dust.
Dull photographs on shelves of empty houses
Stand still apart as hidden lovers must.

Last night was cold. This grief is not for sharing
Save with the stones that shine in morning light.
This precious love remains to ease the bearing.
Wars must be lost that rob such comfort from the night.

And so the pale sun rises through the layers of the sky.
The beams light up the morning, but the shadows lie
On the dead lands, the dark lands, the vast and empty wastes