See that morning moon
hanging low
over the snow that's in the field?
My breath is rising slow
freed from the words that let it go
that this view the beauty escapes me
yes this view the beauty escapes me

I know I held his hands
hanging low
over the rails around his bed.
His chest was rising slow,
and I could not let him go.
If he knew I was there,
it escapes me.
Did the morphine and pain replace me?

Where I'm going now, I do not know.
I can not yield nor think to go.
Such a false light I saw,
over a ground that will never thaw
If there's a sign of relief, it escapes me,
It there's a need for belief it escapes me.