There is glass between our touch, Phantom limbs of former love... And the truth is that I am so terrified That the callous is deeper Than the surface
in pencil that years have made so hard to read. i?ve spent my life building walls brick by brick and bruise by bruise... a birdcage religion that whispered me to sleep
out of the ashes, love will be realized. God knows that we've been naive And a bit nearsighted to say the least. It's broken glass at children's feet
out of the seams. So I reached deeper in And pulled my whole world wide open, And for each broken mile, a billion Miracles happen at once In everything
family trees. But when the branches are bare and broken, Love is so hard to reach. We've learned to brace for the worst And to read the last pages first
When we were young our words were innocent whiter than snow, awkward and slow. now when we speak, we risk an avalanche. but that's not enough now to
our symphonies - a shorthand of existence, a slowly turning key, the voyager will leave us with this modest memory of home. When the sunlight wakes the earth from its deep sleep
When all of the pieces align, When the balance is clearly defined, We'll sigh and we'll settle down For the first time But held in museum display, Time
A single voice In an ocean of constant noise, But somehow our ears were trained To recognize when we hear you call our name. Side by side, Every movement
