I hung out with the old folks, in the hope that I'd get wise.
I was trying to bridge the gap, between the great divide.
Hung on every recollection, in the theater of their eyes
Picking up on this and that, in the few that still survive.
Call em up
Dust em off
Let em shine
The ones who hold onto the the ones, they had to leave behind
Those that flew, those that fell,
The ones that had to stay
Beneath a little wooden cross
Oceans away
They bend like trees in winter, these shuffling old gray lions
Though snow white start to gather, like the belt around Orion.
Just a touch of faded lightning, of the powerful design,
Of the generation gathered, for maybe the last time.
Call em up
Dust em off
Let em shine
The ones who hold onto the the ones, they had to leave behind
Those that flew, those that fell,
The ones that had to stay
Beneath a little wooden cross
Oceans away
Oceans away where the green grass sways and the cool wind blows across the
shadow of their graves.
shoulder to shoulder, back in the day, sleeping bones to rest in Earth
Oceans away
Oceans away
Call em up
Dust em off
Let em shine
The ones who hold onto the the ones, they had to leave behind
Those that flew, those that fell,
The ones that had to stay
Beneath a little wooden cross
Oceans away
The writer is at a memorial service with veterans from world war 2 for US serviceman who were killed serving in Europe. He is concerned that this gathering may not happen again. He is also sad that the "old grey lions" are not getting their due respect. He encourages society to "call them up, dust them off, let them shine". Their greatness is only slightly buried beneath a thin layer of dust. We just need to dust them off and they will indeed shine. I am writing this on the 70th anniversary of the D-day landings.