Pilgrims come in flocks and herds
filled with faith and awe and hope
do they think they shall come first,
do they want to climb the slope
that will guide them up to higher plans?
Should they be guided by unknown faces,
the purple-dressed grin of frozen saints
empowered by a divine force so faint?
The golden cross shines all around
in the golden domes, the golden tiles
the purple dresses with golden smiles
they sing the glory with moaning sound
no easy answers, mind you, do I find
in this Holy place where I now stand
however hard I still might try
I'm certain, though, that I don't mind
being here in this place so grand
that means so little; I don´t know why.
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