He was a scrawny little boy, holding his heart up close
With his blurry eyes, his hand was holding a red rose
His heart apologized, his tongue to commit he chose
But she wasn't there to accept his apology.


Its changed, its not the same, its different, she said
The sun, the fire, the flames drifted; have burned the bed
Ashes remain where a city of unquenchable dreams stood
The wind and the ashes blurred his crying apology.


One moment its there, the palace of dreams and bone
Then the fire burns, and burns right out of control
The silence clouds the embers that flicker and stroll
And in the silence no one hears his kneeling apology.


What does he say to make amends?
What does he do so the feeling suspend?
Turn back the time, or from ashes build the city once more
Would only happen when nature roar his undying apology.