He's gone, he is dead.
His remains upon the hearse ahead.
As silently we wander through the mist, he's free.
This is the end.
Your journey's over, night descend.
Below into the abyss, farewell my friend, you will be missed.
Lower the flags,
A good man has passed,
He has reached the last of frontiers.
Lower the flags,
Down to half-mast,
For again the world has taken a turn for the worse.
He's done, he is dead.
Six feet of earth upon his head.
Now lay your wreaths upon the one who lies beneath.
Although you're gone,
In memories you shall live on.
Asleep, in peace now rest, the weight of the world is off your chest.
That mourning light I'll always remember,
And these August nights: cold as December.
Lower the flags,
A good man has passed,
He has reached the last of frontiers.
Lower the flags,
Down to half-mast,
For again the world has taken a turn for the worse.
(Sentenced - Lower the flags)
