A song is shaped by the silence it leaves behind A tender refrain bearing time in every line The final chord is not the loss of sound But where all its beauty remains unbound Death is the last soft petal to drift and fall The closing act, the curtain coming down The bitter end, though we bend, though we bawl Is the splendid silence that crowns it all So let the curtain fall Let the curtain fall Let the low song slow and go Let every flower fade Let every refrain end Let the curtain fall This is why we love them so
