“Think the sky is grey because we want it that way?” she asks.
Hell of a way to speak to someone on the other side of the line.
“Suits the mood, whatever the reason.”
She ain’t wrong, us facing each other in the misty quiet.
Above us it’s all spinning off, breaking up – reforming.
“Are you afraid of what comes next?”
She’s difficult to ignore but impossible to cut down.
Now that, I do believe.
They’ve the light of a million righteous souls behind them.
All we’ve got’s the guilt.