Roxy Music © E.G. Music 1974

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

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