Walking through the Barrowlands   I heard and felt the wind   Was it the cold breath of history   The soldier's last gasp, his last sin       Walking through the Barrowlands   A field of crows took flight   Or were they dark familiars   Ministers of night       When it gets dark   When it gets cold   When the mist comes on down   When you feel old   When there's no more talk   You will believe bones can walk       Walking through the Barrowlands   I heard the distant guns   Or was it the dreadful Barrowbrook   About his dismal fun       Walking through the Barrowlands   I turned towards the spire   Or was it once the highest height   To which all men could aspire... Yes       When it gets dark   When it gets cold   When the mist comes on down   When you feel old   When there's no more talk   You will believe bones can walk       When there's no more talk   You will believe bones can walk