Triptych
Bryan Ferry
Here the soil is barren
Here nothing grows but crosses
They know not what they do
You - your forgiveness falls as dew
Nailed upon a wooden frame
Twisted yet unbroken
Open mounted a silent choir
Understood, unspoken
Never was there heard a sound
Until the heavens opened
Now the tide is turning
To other wordly yearning
Through the sun's eclipse seems final
Surely he will rise again