Again, again, again and once again,
Between the rains that fall from purple skies
Between the bitter sweet of twisted pain
Again, again, again the lover cries.
And out across the world the heathen fall
And blessed are all the sacred of the heart
For he who loves shall not be dead at all
But raised above the shallow from the start.
And when our love is taken on its own
We look at it and wonder how it is
That such a precious thing could turn to stone
If one of us denied that it were his.
As bound together as the moon and sea
So you and I, and I and you should be.
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