Smoke and ash, your soul is gone.
Your last days here are far too long.
You're sick, you cry, you pray to die.
When shadows fall, go greet the sky.

A world of shame covers our names
when all things sacred are profaned.
Perhaps because they're not explained
in simple terms to cure our pain.

May God forgive what we don't know
having to do with self control.
May he bring peace we've not yet found
and help us lay our weapons down.

Smoke and ash, our souls are gone.
There's nothing innocent we've done.
I've torn through you, you've torn through me.
We've done it hypocritically.

With friendship's laughter in the day
and anguished frowns on bitter nights,
we drank the cup of poisoned wine
and then complained when we went blind.

When for a moment we've relaxed
enough to let our guard fall down,
we've learned the Earth is angry flat,
we've plunged knives in each other's backs.

Smoke and ash, we're smoke and ash.
Silently we'll sleep at last.
No more to gain, no more to lack.
Except the sky profaned and black.