Besedila: Holy Soldier. Rust.

Sitting on a weathered bench in the middle of a park
The names can barely still be read, where two lovers carved a heart

I wonder where they are today, are they together still?
Or does only one return to trace the heart that never healed?

And on, and on, and on, and on we all pretend
Day after day goes by but someday it will end

Turning of time, sowing of seeds
Saying the words we seldom speak
Say what you should, do what you must

Turning of time, sowing of seeds
Not for the now but eternity
Hearts like a wheel can turn to rust

Mother saved the photograph, now she keeps it in her book
She cries every time she sees, though she can't help but look

Her only child made her smile, though she can't accept the loss
She spends her day but not alone, at the foot of the cross