And in the streets, the children screamed The lovers cried and the poets dreamed But not a word was spoken The church bells all were broken

And in the streets, the children screamed The lovers cried and the poets dreamed But not a word was spoken The church bells all were broken

Desolate cityscape, eerie silence, children's vacant faces contorted in screams, lovers' desperate embraces, poets' frantic scribbles, amidst crumbling church steeples, shattered bells lie still, in a haunting tableau of despair, à la the emotive, atmospheric works of Zdzisław Beksiński, the moody, film-noir ...