"What language shall I borrow
to praise thee Heavenly Friend
in this thy endless sorrow
thy pity without end?
Death's pallor now come o'er thee
the glow of life decays
yet Hosts of Heaven adore thee
and tremble as they gaze."

Ah such a quiet town
the church bells tolled
but they didn't make a sound
the leaves in the trees
refused to fall though the rain
inside the clouds felt the pain
not a drop reached the ground
the death of Bach
silenced the world

ah such a quiet thing
the wind was still
and the birds wouldn't sing
the strings stayed untuned
the organ was mute
the choir loft was empty
untouched lay the lute
the death of Bach
silenced the world

the moment the light in the music
went out in the mind of the master
even Orpheus wept
he lay down his lyre
exhausted and slept
the death of Bach
silenced the world.


(recorded on WIND CRIES MARY, published in ETCHINGS)