Reprise

Hanging down from the ceiling ... the old pendulum now

rests,

Time stands still ... - like iron - ... in the house of

the dead.

Our fragile souls lie weeping, sealed in sleep and balls

of lead,

All flowers here are dust, but we can still recall their

scent.

In filth, decay and disrelish the leg-less man lay

kneeling,

Weeping petrified, out of his mind ... - half buried, yet

still breathing.

His lips are soft like powder and so cold ... colder than

snow;

Mingled with the dust he fell, all paralysed by flesh and

bone.

"Forgive us, please, for we're long fallen",

Shivering carcass shuns the light,

Ancient bodies' fallen heaven, a dark star in a fallen

sky.

"Flow my tears !" , the angel said,

He forced a smile than bowed his head,

How much he wished that he could die ... -

Tore his old wings off with a sigh.