All armies bear their losses, yet still they rally on. The fanfare may be muted, the spirit may be gone. And Troy was devastated by an accident of greed. I knew that you were taken; a book I should not read. But the sun danced in your shadow like the mocking of a bird. And I was dragged down to your depth. And I clung to every word. You're a statue in my past. You are stone amongst the gra**. Byzantine and cold but never growing old. And the clouds pa** over Europe as the night, it battens down. I am drinking in the backroom of a bar of some renown. And I'm thinking how I lost you, how I let go of your hand. Your last words wore a sadness. You were drowned out by the band.