Who am I to be mourning My simple mysteries unfurled When I have the privilege to be Gathering swans for the new world Like angels we’ll fly Gliding on And trumpets will sigh Solemn as the ashes rise Burn down the gallery God’s greatest gag of suffering Could there be happiness at least? Or could murder be mercy? Now I hear the children laughing Amidst the feathers they will twirl Snowy white in the springtime Gathering swans for the new world The years will fly by Diving on And mothers will cry Solemn as the ashes rise Burn down the gallery God’s greatest gag of suffering Could there be happiness at least? Or could murder be mercy? In fifty years we’ll see Maybe we’ll have a family Our children will dance and laugh and sing Baby, happy anniversary