The first snow drifts across these winter fields
It stirs old guilt and painful memories
I think of what we did to poor Elise
I see her tears of dread
I see her shaven head
And pray each winter that my guilt will ease

She was a young girl on a small French farm
He was a young man in a uniform
Her eyes were gentle and his arms were warm
I see her tears of dread
I see her shaven head
Should youthful love have led to so much harm

In times of war we deal in certainty
We tend to think in black and white
There is no blurring, no soft focus
We learn what is
We lose what might be

Their snowy footprints led us to her door
A german soldier and a young french whore
But now I wonder what we really saw
I see her tears of dread
I see her shaven head
Did we miss true love in the rage of war

Her black hair fallen on the virgin snow
Black tire tracks crossing where the armies go
Was she a traitor and was he the foe
I see her tears of dread
I see her shaven head
And as the years pass I don't really know

Those footprints in the snow betrayed her
We found them with self-righteous rage
Sure in our minds she was a traitor
But now doubts haunt me in old age

Elise was single to her lonely end
Her baby grew to be my daughter's friend
They laugh together and my stiff heart bends
But I still see that dread
That roughly shaven head
And all the hurt that's now too late to mend

In war, in peace let's learn uncertainty
Not always think in black and white
Harsh vision blur into soft focus
Not knowing right but seeking ways that might be

The first snow drifts across these winter fields
It stirs old guilt and painful memories