Foreign

I saw you from a foreign window Bearing down the sufferin' road You were carryin' your burden To the palace of the Lord To the palace of the Lord I spied you from a foreign window When the lilacs were in bloom And the sun shone through your window pane To the place you kept your books You were reading on your sofa You were singin' every prayer That the masters had instilled in you Since Lord Byron loved despair In the palace of the Lord In the palace of the Lord Bridge: And if you get it right this time You don't have to come back again And if you get it right this time