Through grey sky's they cut me down ,
their diggers out of thorn felt ground ,
hundred years I had stood ,
built out of architects visions and plans ,
From beauty I set my eye on you ,
a wandering stranger ,
and wondered how God could have knit anything together as beautiful as you ?
A monument to culture ,
to all that is good ,
yet empty you stand ,
how many years you have stood ,
when all that have learnt from you are all but an Angel carved in stone .
As for those that live ,
oh fond memories they have lost ,
How they have forgotten you .
Look at you now an empty shell ,
and the vandals they came with diggers from hell ,
wealding their machines until you lay like bricks in the schist.
no memorial for you ,
no facade ,
no folly ,
Just dust .
I turned away I knew I would see you never again ,
but you were never mine just a face in a crowd ,
It all seems like a dream ,
and when my weary head wakes ,
even my memories will fade .
Pigeons will still take rest ,
daisies still grow around you were grave stones lay .
To no memorial shall lay for you shall be gone ,
like the mirror I held to my grand mothers wardrobe ,
their reflections live ever on .