I was in a place that I could not name
I was on my own, lost upon my way
To a place I'd never seen before.

And the path was long and the moon hung low
When I heard a voice on the radio
The golden sigh of a broke heart singer.

Sometimes the pauper is the poet
Sometimes the fool is wise
Sometimes the joker seems to know it.

He was in a place that he tried to name
Just an orphan child in the pouring rain
With a heart so old it was made by angels

In his tower room writing holy songs
That were so beautiful the devil sang along
His spirit sored above the weeper

Sometimes the blossom breaks it's branches
Sometimes the angels cry
Sometimes your father is a phantom

I didn't know you before they hung you from your halo
But somehow I knew you couldn't last for long, save for song.

So if you're in a place that you cannot name
And you're all alone, lost upon your way
To a place you've never seen before

If your path seems long and the moon is low
You might hear the voice of some holy ghost
It's the golden sigh of the broke heart singer

Sometimes the silence is not golden.