Triptych - Roxy Music

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