All armies bear their losses
yet still they rally on.
The fanfare may be muted
the spirit may be gone.
And Troy was devastated
by an accident of greed.
I knew that you were taken
a book I should not read.
But the sun danced in your shadow
like the mocking of a bird.
And I was dragged down to your depth.
And I clung to every word.
You're a statue in my past.
You are stone amongst the grass.
Byzantine and cold
but never growing old.
And the clouds pass over Europe
as the night, it battens down.
I am drinking in the backroom
of a bar of some renown.
And I'm thinking how I lost you
how I let go of your hand.
Your last words wore a sadness.
You were drowned out by the band.
