---

And the rain is falling,

And the rain is falling down.

And in vain we call them.

As we listen to the ground.

There's a past that must be buried here.

There's an answer to be found.

There's a path for those remaining here.

There's a price to keep it bound.

Behold what we have grown.

And the snow begins to fall,

And the shadows lengthen.

(They will ambush in the night,

Enemy advances).

There is solace in this,

Simple repetition.

(No such thing as silence,

While the echoes answer).

In the preparation,

Of our daily ration.

(In the grinding and the flames,

There is recollection.)

Slightly softer after,

Still the hunger beckons.

(And for those who listen to them,

This world will open).

Behold what we have grown

There will be a summer,

Where the poppies blow and sway.

(In the scattered ashes,

Of the conflagration).

Those who live will feel its,

Gentle somnolescence.

(And the numbing will become,

A need for satiation).

And I know that there will be,

Children born to wreckage.

(The renewal of the earth,

Yield their consecration).

They will know the silence,

In their generation.

(Grown from buried blood and bone,

Born to devastation).

There's a past that must be buried here.

(Buried here)

There's an answer to be found.

(Answer to be found)

THere's a path for those remaining here.

(Remaining here)

There's a price to keep it bound.

Behold what we have grown.