Now for some reason I remember it so

Like the stories foretold

That here where all has died

On either side the river lie

Long fields of barley and rye

No longer they are seen by the eye

By those who once would pass by

Nor can they be seen as those days

Pristine, not of decay

For time has passed

And nothing I guess truly does last

As evidence shows

Nothing has grown

Just barren and cold