decameron
fairport convention
she doesn't see the day today
no colours where the children play
she doesn't see the things she saw
white crosses painted on the door
every time the sun shines
he didn't see the summer go
though he knew what the shadows know
he didn't see his arms grow old
he didn't feel his blood run cold
every time the sun shines
they listened to his voice grow pale
no stamps were on the morning mail
they all listened to the white truck ring
words just didn't mean a thing