I woke up sweating,
My breath was short from running.
From dreams and mares of reality.
His soothing voice was rhythmically sounding:
"There will be good days after this."
How can you tell;
She lied there screaming,
Her arm was broken and her eye was bleeding?
He hid his face, but the kept repeating;
"There will be good days after this."
I can foresee tomorrow,
A movie still rerunning; of horrors,cries,
Of helpless agony and endless nights of black isolation,
You failing angel, why did you slumber, I need a wonder;
"Will there be good days after this?"
I am no prophet,
I need relay on promises, kept step by step,
Nothing any more of cruelty hidden behind a mirror darkly.
Walk with us upon the water, stretch out your hands;
We will need good days after this.
