He was there the night the wall came down.
He lost her in the endless crowd
in the shadow of St. Stephen's cross.
He sent cries aloft for his fellow man
his fingers slipping from her hand
the rain clouds prowling overhead.
She was there the night the wall came down.
She faded into that newborn crowd
like a warning of what could be lost.
Through the perforated night she ran
her fingers slipping from his hand
and she breathed in freedom
They were there the night the wall was drowned
in the shadow of St. Stephen's cross
and he closed his eyes and heard no sound
but her breathing warm against his mouth.