there was guy up on the hill,
with a trumpet to his lips,
i mean to tell you he knew how to blow that thing.

there were women dressed in purple,
banging on their tamborines,
and hammering on cymbals

it was not that long ago
when we gathered in the valley below
i loved you more than i loved my own life
i was falling to pieces.

there was a young man on the altar
you saw me poised above him
i saw you watching me.

there were singers, there were dancers
there was glittering gold
spring breaking out gradually.

it was not that long ago
but the memory's kinda dying out 'cha know
like a flower caught in the overgrowth,
falling, falling to pieces.

See also:
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