In those strawberry fields, it seemed They all marched too alive and real. The unknowing, maybe sensing, screamed “There’s no Jericho here to heal!”
In no small way, I understood, The child watching that television, There was more evil to match good, When a plane made its second collision.
That’s when we realized the hardness of tomorrow Mistakenly seen enough to tell This was an attack our hearts had to sorrow This, we knew, when the towers fell.
Still, we remember those things we felt And try our best to seize the day We remember when those watching knelt Heart broken or fighting? Too close to say.
Beneath the rubble of the truth - Heroes, lovers, sinners, thieves - Beneath the terror of our youth - We are all these things beneath.
That does not mean we are all to blame Though, every one of us is lost It doesn’t mean our mistakes got a name Even still, we must pay our cost.
In our busy lives and concerning fates There is a truth we must admit As the prices rise and the moment rates We must be reminded not to forget
There is a time to step back and see At the demanding cry to all be free That all that is asked, is a prayer to be To Him, as He sorrows - cries…