New Zion
There were signs
When we gathered by the garden wall
Listening
High priest
Ranting of the coming of the dead
Brave ones at the gates
Frightening all the visitors
I lay down by the water
where I come from
Old things made new
Waiting for you
There were wooden windchimes rustling
All the
Old familiar
The little faith we had once
Like the memory
They got burned up
Reassembling
I lay down by the water
where I come from
Old things made new
Waiting for you
