Blinded by rage,
Or was it helplessness?
Someone with bent torn pages
Wouldn't know the difference

Scraping nails needing an alibi,
With the thirst of a collapsing throat,
Making sacrifices were paper thin lies
And closed rooms were loudest at dawn

So we wait in the dark
*Maybe new beginnings are making their mark

We caused the death of another human
Oh , and they want us to feel remorse
But we're burning like the fire torches
Our only answers being slamming doors

We fought the fight on the wrong side
Who is to say what's right over here
The streets had been torn long before war
But we'd rather blame the stranger than the one near

We are the whispers of heartlessness
But my dear, you don't even know true dark
Our sleep has been disturbed too
But we know we've made our mark

And we walked every step,
Every step till the light of the sun was turning pink
We walked a road that held no answers
But desperate questions needed at least a quest.
We sang songs, both dire and calm
Only to keep our feet moving
We walked on a road that had seen no games
But a still heart could at least hope.
Our eyes were sore even with sights of delight
A stubborn heart didn't bother for it
We walked a road that was a dead end
But strong hands would always lay more bricks.

She wrote stories
On the stars that
His every sigh let go
And they danced on constellations
With the song of the waning moon
And yet somehow their stardust trails
Seemed to lead where
Their hearts didn't lay