The Valley of the Fallen
A four pillared greeting, a long winding road
A quiet, eerie presence; cold, soft whispers...friend or foe?
A cry from the mountains rides on the breeze
It's heard in the valley, it's heard in the trees
Fallen for God and fallen for Spain!
It's not spoken with pride, but with pain and disdain
It comes like a croak, ragged and dry
Like it's been all boxed up and has not seen the light
The cries sing aloud from the walls of the nave
Most of them dug up; their final resting place: a mass grave
A shrine to the fallen for country and kin
A monument to remember; never forget this buried sin
A four pillared farewell, a quiet drive home
A reassuring presence, a new friend, a renewed hope
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