The eyes of night march slowly by
|
The last grain falls
|
The kneeling man just sighs
|
Protected by the one great wall
|
Of coloured parts
|
He probes his clouded mind
|
If he takes a look around him
|
Is there nothing left to see
|
Is there nothing left at all
|
After the day
|
|
With trembling hands he wipes his eyes
|
He tries to stand
|
But does not feel the need
|
The morning sun shines on
|
The multicoloured cross
|
Left standing through it all
|
|
If he takes a look around him
|
Is there nothing left to see
|
Is there nothing left at all
|
After the day
|
|
If he takes a look around him
|
Is there nothing left to see
|
Is there nothing left at all
|
After the day
|
|
-----------------
|
After The Day
|
| Barclay James Harvest |
