A lone captive looks down from a hill,
Watching the row pass below.
A pretty girl, dressed in all white,
Dancing, letting her long hair flow.

She's dancing.
She's praying.
She knows she's disobeying.
She's smiling.
She's crying.
She's on the verge of dying.

The voice of the song,
The words that were strong.
All seem faded, as if they were wrong.

The words in her rhyme,
The way that they chime,
All seem standing, frozen in time.

The immense urge to go,
The strength she must show,
All of the frightful things she must know.

The war rages on,
The peace foregone,
All of the girl's people will soon be gone.