We called and called on destiny
then waited for her death
Our hands we've made of stone
and lips, of broken glass
so that nothing leaves us clean
and nothing can come back
When sunlight turned from golden calm
into the burning ash
we watched our stars come crashing
and our lover's moon was grieving
while we only turned our backs
Now we wonder about those days-
were they freedom more than tears
as we ask in restless whispers
who might ever love us still
