In the clock tower the flames are out
The angels grab hold of the dead.
Streets are swept with mothers’ simpers and shouts
Who’ve aching hearts and pained heads.

The beasts of burden have begun their retreat,
‘tis time to find the survivors,
And show them heart, good wine, and sweets
And forgive the sins of the liars.

The town begins its journey back to health
From the ash a phoenix will rise.
Then the town can put this fable up on the shelf
As pits of iron flash in their eyes.