I woke still half-dreaming I was falling out of the trees. and tumbling down into the sky. It's cold so cold sometime before dawn. searching for a light and reaching round for my clothes. That we believe so must call rise. The convoys roll into the coming daylight. Let it not be said that everything must die. without some mark being made of its passing. Chorus:. As if all the world should now hold its breath. These are the days that we'll recall. when the masks are off the faces. and there's something to fight for. All the lines drawn down in the Soul. You can let your anger burn crazy. There's talking-drums echoed down towards the Kennet Canal. and wood-smoke sweet on the air. And the Yellow Jackets stand with the Thick Blue Line. backs to the woods in the fresh thin carpet of snow. Snelsmore Wood The Chase Enbourne Road. Reddings Copse Tothill down through Andover Grove. Let it not be said that everything must die. without some mark being made of its passing. Chorus:.