Who am I to be mourning
My simple mysteries unfurled
When I have the privilege to be
Gathering swans for the new world

Like angels we’ll fly
Gliding on
And trumpets will sigh
Solemn as the ashes rise

Burn down the gallery
God’s greatest gag of suffering
Could there be happiness at least?
Or could murder be mercy?

Now I hear the children laughing
Amidst the feathers they will twirl
Snowy white in the springtime
Gathering swans for the new world

The years will fly by
Diving on
And mothers will cry
Solemn as the ashes rise

Burn down the gallery
God’s greatest gag of suffering
Could there be happiness at least?
Or could murder be mercy?
In fifty years we’ll see
Maybe we’ll have a family
Our children will dance and laugh and sing
Baby, happy anniversary