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I can no longer hear you call 'cross the airwaves |
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Fog on the line has shaken my will not to yield |
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The one left here, my command all gone down |
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I'm caught, caught, where the cold dark fingers trace |
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Where the men who failed, they lie and kiss the dark earth's face |
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I am lost, lost, by the storm clouds am tossed |
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Now here comes the snow deep |
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And I will take a sleep, sweet Margaret my dear |
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Tell me |
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It was long and a strong and sweet year indeed |
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To get lost in |
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I've seen the survivors when they come home from the icefields |
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The lace and the ladies' flush and a pearl on the eye |
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Fine bone china and the log fire spark high |
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But I'm back in the wasteland low, where the ripe seed never gets blown |
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What chance I'll see te sun on the lea, hear the cornfield moan |
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I am lost, lost, by the storm clouds am tossed |
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Now here comes the snow deep |
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And I will take sleep, sweet Margaret my dear |
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Tell me |
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It was a long and a strong and a sweet year indeed |
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To get lost in |
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No one to hear me when I cry |
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No one to hold me when I sigh |
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No one to watch me when I die |
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How will I live again |
