You can hear the candles burning in the churches of the Lot;
There's a stillness there that takes you by the arm and bids you stop
And watch the swirls of dust caught in the slanting shafts of light
Like atoms dancing captive in the molecules of Time.

Each stone has its story, in the churches of the Lot:
Brought down from those distant hills above the valley Time forgot,
Finely carved, or roughly hewn, they watch gravely in their turn,
As we stream by like meteors in our hurry to be gone.

Those distant hills are not so far away
The sunlight spills across the canvas of another day.
The pink cliffs shimmer above the morning mist
And then the sun peeps into the canyon, shy as love's first kiss.

As evening falls, the shadows form, in the churches of the Lot;
Twilight spreads her velvet cloak over the valley Time forgot;
If there is a God, then this is where we can feel his presence smile,
As the stars begin to sparkle and the moon begins to shine.

Those distant hills are not so far away
The sunset spills across the canvas of another day.
The pink cliffs shimmer above the evening mist
As the sun tiptoes out the canyon, shy as love's first kiss.

Copyright © M.J.C. Griffin [ASCAP]