Newspaper over heads, suits that run in the dark,
That run in fear from the choking of the ground.
The bombs rain down in unison
Leaving people’s good intentions and their hopes of tomorrow
Blanked in blinding light,
Forever alone and distraught from what lay in their unspoken minds.

All of this I once read from my future bench
Bestowed upon a grievous wasteland which had neighbored the raining and the thunder that night
Just close enough so I could envision the souls of the ones beaten down like the ground.
Ambiguous ghosts among a dark cloud,
Forever alone and in confusion,
Appalled at the buttons that could mask the eyes
Of brethren in blinding light.

Huddled en masse, the victims of the fall
The shivering changing of the halo
Grouped in twos, in threes by the fire
Look up, to the things bigger than you
As Silence jeers his frosty fist in opposition.
So make like the living, and bloom
Oh, bloom
Towards Light and his followers.
When you think no one around has their ears open
Be forewarned;
Echo listens and repeats,
So make like the birds, and rise above the fall.
Carry the lightest ones on your shoulders
And hope the heavy are strong enough to make it through the night
To see things bigger than them by sunrise
Holding out their hallowed hands in helping;
In warming grace.

You can hear them whistling down the tunnel if you really listen close
Far down the tunnel of love, so perfectly sharp that echo
Marching on, the drummer’s song, forever and ever.
Yet the ones who listen are not always ready
But they hear the calling alright, to a higher place
Like roots from a garden.
And the headmaster, what to do with all this noise?
What seemed like eternity all this chaos and chatter
Will soon be sorted by the headmaster into melodies,
In an ever-stretching siphon of unique song and ability.

All this heavy thinking, it’s got me going insane
But then again, is there anyone born to think about it?
The shop keeper and the passerby have other things on their mind
So hand me the die of fate hidden on the highest shelf
For you won’t find anyone else
With the heart that sings, that won’t ever stop.
I think about it all the time and it worries me; you know I’m scared of open heights.
This mystery, where we’re all supposed to go,
It isn’t for the meek and those that hide
So come on ghosts, shake our hands
Help us with this burden, this struggle
The ultimate struggle between what’s up there and what’s down here.