Dust to Dry Bones

I wrote something sentimental once

About Time or the leaves

Maybe it was Love or a death

It must have fallen in the trash

There was a time I sang a song

About Hope and the sky

About the trees and dried tears

On the ground I can't lift my eyes

I can't even cry

Swept through the thoughts

Through the notes, the beauty

Through the years

A divine orchestra, at work

As I stencil my melody on a soiled page

In a predetermined shape

A cute little picture, sign my name

"The silver cord snaps

The golden bowl breaks;

The pitcher shatters at the fountain"

My God, my God, why hate?

And I flew with dreams in my hands

and a song in my heart

Another song to never sing

I can't fly, I've never had wings

And the Plague that stops everything

Was staring back again

Remnants of fires burning

Through the forest's blurry leaves

And the cycle again, until Beauty's end

Dig and dig for Hope, or remain buried within

And when the little child paints

A heavenly glimpse of happy fate

As the Mother smiles proud

The girl skips and hums aloud

Cuz the mirror's cracked and on the floor

Your Lover won't forget your name, no more

He's alive again, my dear

My dear, please hand over all your tears

And sing songs of Hope and Love

(Love) will carry your orchestrated melody

To each blank and crumpled page

And bleeding sentimentality

Will raise the tombs

Among the living, not the dead

(Not the) Broken

Will have no meaning

To the ones who made their bed

And just walked away, walk away

To live among the starry host

Remember Job's feast and gold ring?

Ashes to ashes and dust to dry bones

And dry bones, thank the Wind

In your whispers at night, my dear friends