In spite of all the dishonour, the broken standards, the broken lives, The broken faith in one place or another, There was something left that was more than the tales Of old men on winter evenings.

And in the wreck of noble lives
Something immortal still survives.

There's hope left in these dusty chords. There's a song left in our rusty hearts. We are torn and frayed but love remains.

When all is lost, there is still a memory.

Beneath the layers of hurt, beneath the ragged laughter, I heard a willingness to endure. Endure — and make music that wasn't there before.

where there is no more hope, song remains.