He's gone, he is dead His remains upon hearse ahead As silently we wander though the mist He's free
This is the end Your journey's over, night descends Below... the abyss Farewell, my friend, you will be
Lower the flags A good man has He has reached the last of frontiers Lower the flags Down to half-mast For the world has taken a turn for the worse
He's done, he is dead Six feet of earth upon his head Now lay your wreaths Upon the one lies beneath
Although you're gone In memories shall live on Asleep... In peace now rest The weight of the world is off your
Lower the flags A good man has passed has reached the last of frontiers Lower the flags Down to half-mast For again the world has taken a turn for the worse
That morning I'll always remember And these August nights: cold as December.