To those who stepped on this weathered ground
I had hoped to hear your golden voice again,
But there wasn’t a thought to be heard now
What wisdom I had hoped you would say.
–
Yet I stand here crying out in great fright,
Praying that one day you will come to me at night
It is only now that it is seen so clearly
You were always with me, just not as before.
–
One day it will be another sitting on this lonely gravel road,
Wishing, pleading, that my voice also comes again
That too shall pass, and even another will take his place
A chain, conveyer belt, of pain.