You were the grace that placed itself where lives were torn apart.

You called out to our country, and you whispered to those in pain.

Now you belong to heaven, and the stars spell out your name.

And it seems to me you lived your life like a candle in the wind: never fading with the sunset when the rain sets in.

And your footsteps will always fall here, along England's greenest hills; your candle's burned out long before your legend never will.

Loveliness we've lost; these empty days without your smile.

This torch we'll always carry for our nation's golden child.

And even though we try, the truth brings us to tears;

all our words cannot express the joy you brought us through the years.

Goodbye England's rose, from a country lost without your soul,

who'll miss the wings of your compassion more than you'll ever know.'

And it seems to me you lived your life like a candle in the wind:

never fading with the sunset when the rain sets in.

And your footsteps will always fall here, along England's greenest hills;

your candle's burned out long before your legend never will.