That little ticking clock in your mind You start to feel good - and it feels so nice! But no sooner do you feel good, you start to feel bad. You want to squeeze answers from the past Raise the dead and ask them why they didn't want you Jolt to life the one that fell asleep Chase down your supposed soulmate and ask: Why? Why? Why?
A lonely wreckage of a battlefield can't be restored to what it was. The blood cannot be removed. Those blades of grass that were trampled can't be sewn back together. The trees that were burnt cannot be revived.
After the storm, there may be found many things Bits of wet newspaper torn like broken birds Tree limbs bent down and scattered Or simply the cleansing of the air And the spread of new colors in the sky