Walking in the land of our brothers and sisters, our mothers and fathers, our friends and our cousins.
Shadows of all who have passed, and we pass them along.
All cry at their graveside, still clutching on.
Forgetting about nothing, continuing their last song.
We shout to them slowly, and loudly, and strong.
Laugh at the struggles and curse at the laughs.
Wondering how it could all come to this.
Our teachers and classmates we’ve all learned to miss.
Forgetting about what we hold in our brains, the pain that is locked away, it’s down deep within.
It twists, and it moans, and it kisses our skulls.
It’s never been easy to part with love.
I don’t understand how rain comes from above.
As we move along the grey splattered night.
The clouds line our memories, and our sorrow we fight.
It’s unlike us to be so weak, yet alive.
With axes of troubles and arrows of gold.
It’s not nearly as easy as when you get old.
To let go of one, bring another inside.
Let’s lie to each other, and lay down to die.
Flying across buildings, we see our town below.
When it’s questioned why it happens to us and not them.
They hide all their children, their women, their men.
It happens to them, but they don’t seem to care.
We happen to see the change in the coldest air.
It’s so different being on the inside.