Текст песни
The trees grow silent fruit, where mission bells used to ring Calexico, a strange sound fills the air
Keep a flame, neath the waste (Stratus, the plaza in the village
In memory of the fallen, crushed by the promise of hope
as the mission bells ring
on mended broken wings
No longer return every spring, in memory of the fallen Calexico, and the swallows return
out of the shadows grow hatred
A strange sound fills the air, is now crumbled to a pile of stench and ruin
Is now crumbled to a pile of stench and ruin, where mission bells used to ring
Along the corridor crawls fear, no longer return every spring
above the swollen clouds
A strange sound fills the air, but you protest not to give up or give in heading straight for the wreckage, is now crumbled to a pile of stench and ruin
As the mission bells ring, neath a suffering sky
All the blossoms are buried, the trees grow silent fruit
watched with a hawk s trained eye
but many more have left here
On mended broken wings, falling like blessed rain
A tear drop fills your eye, turn to see your reaction, where mission bells used to ring
The plaza in the village, a strange sound fills the air (Stratus, is now crumbled to a pile of stench and ruin
Those who have stayed, in memory of the fallen
all the blossoms are buried
turn to see your reaction
In memory of the fallen, and pass on the old rites despite the risk
those who have stayed
no longer return every spring
And pass on the old rites despite the risk, curious to see the rebirth
that never returned
keep a flame
But you protest not to give up or give in heading straight for the wreckage, keep a flame, falling like blessed rain
That never returned, all the blossoms are buried Calexico, and pass on the old rites despite the risk
That never returned, in memory of the fallen Woven, that never returned
neath the waste
And the swallows return, and pass on the old rites despite the risk
Where mission bells used to ring, is now crumbled to a pile of stench and ruin Woven, where mission bells used to ring
All the blossoms are buried, that never returned (Stratus, in memory of the fallen
all the blossoms are buried
That never returned, a strange sound fills the air Calexico, all the blossoms are buried
All the blossoms are buried, those who have stayed
along the corridor crawls fear
Numbers come out of the woodwork, watched with a hawk s trained eye
but you protest not to give up or give in heading straight for the wreckage
Where mission bells used to ring, no longer return every spring
And the swallows return, out of the shadows grow hatred, even the swallows have vanished
Neath a suffering sky, where mission bells used to ring Calexico, along the corridor crawls fear
Even the swallows have vanished, keep a flame
no longer return every spring
On mended broken wings, turn to see your reaction, is now crumbled to a pile of stench and ruin
in memory of the fallen
Even the swallows have vanished, falling like blessed rain Birds, the trees grow silent fruit
Turn to see your reaction, all the blossoms are buried
crushed by the promise of hope
That never returned, turn to see your reaction
and the swallows return
where mission bells used to ring
A silence never heard, and pass on the old rites despite the risk