So silent, I seenoh so silentnI see the procession so blacknoh so dark, so blacknSilent I see the procession of sorrownHands as their wingsnshielding are the handsnshielding the eyes are the wingsnThe eyes of sorrownhands as wingsnin front of the black veilnnI see the procession westboundnsilently gliding westboundnThe procession of widows so darknso dark the young widowsnwhose hands as wingsnshielding their eyesnhands as wings of the widowsnnQuietly I hear the song of sorrownI hear the song so bitternhumming of the frozen windownI feel the pain, the grief of deathnI see the dark skynthe horizon burning I seenI hear the chilling call in the windnThe cold call of warnThe cold call of warnThe cold call of war