Fields of stone piled over the bones of the dead.
Every minute tries to still their sound.
Fields of stone piled over the bones of my friends.
But their words won't join them in the ground.
Your name, your word, your verse, your world, not lost to the statuary.
Our chance, our hope, our love, our world, not lost to the statuary.
All of a life consigned to acclaim from a name.
"Sends a permanent shiver down my spine."
All of a life consigned to a chair, or a chain.
"Oh death... I've flirted with you all my life."
Fields of stone piled over the bones of my friends.
Their words still shake me with their sound.
Your name, your word, your verse, your world, not lost to the statuary.
Our chance, our hope, our love, our world, not lost to the statuary.