Too many believe In some 'master plan' 'cause it's hard to accept What's not shapen by hand.
But here, under the sun, Where events can't be undone Once superstition's spent - You gotta know, We want our brothers back.
The hurt came down From the clear blue sky. The sands of time Went rushing by.
It came as a shock, We'd shut our eyes. Is this all that's left, Just a slow good-bye?
The curators frown And they wax abstract. But, man, if you've found love What could matter more than that?
It's a crime and a shame (selfish and vain) To try to justify this pain. I guess they'll think what they will - But before the dawn They'll want their brothers back.
Version imprimable
