Look at the golden dawn. See the sunset. On the silver thorn. Just remember. It was all for you and me. High on the ragged hill. He was dying. And he's dying still. Oh my Lord. You were born to set men free. And the mission bells are ringing. As the prisoner finds release. And the love we knew is returning. Like wild geese. And the signal fires are burning. For the everlasting peace. And the love we knew is returning. Like wild geese. Only the closest heart. Could believe that love's. A dying art. After all the. Hungry mouths he fed. Eyes on the gentle one. Looked for the kindness. But they gave him none. Not a sip of wine. Or a crust of bread