It writes the names of all the people going
to their graves, walking one by one into the sun

A traffic jam in the middle of the day
Headlights are on - I wonder where they're going?
I stop to ask but no one wants to say
I want to know - I want to know

Nothing is fixed and the wind is sweeping
Sweeping up the bodies that litter the earth
See the rain dancing on the snow
It writes the names of all the children coming from their graves,
crawling one by one out from the sun