The sun burns like the Richmond blacksmith’s fire
Fierce flames are gleaming by the sides of clouds
The weather forecast is constructed by a liar
To hide the knowledge of funereal pyre
The Social Contract melts ; the flames fly higher
The dead are gathered in;the fields are ploughed
Silently we say goodbye, without a choir
The sun burns like the Richmond blacksmith’s fire
Fierce flames are glowing by the sides of clouds
