Junkman

You have managed so much as, as another trial. Every drop of water, wine reeking of denial. Summer skies grow deep and grey, Poisoned by the light. As you face another day, haunted by the night. Face the road of mishap, sober and forlorn. In another desperate chase of another storm. Raise up and welcome it in your final fit. You are both the lightning and a shield from It. Do you think you can say the unspoken? Do you think you can mend what is broken? Do you even know what you're dealing with? Do your little tricks ever work? Thunderstorm will follow you even if you fled. Electric rivers going wild in a tyrant bed. Rise up and welcome it in your final fit. You are both the lightning and a shield from It. Do you think you can say the unspoken? Do you think you can mend what is broken? Do you even know what you're dealing with? Do your little tricks ever work? What tongue does the wind talk? What nationality is a storm? What country do rains come from? What color is lightning? Where does thunder go when it's erased? You got to do it in every dialect, With every shape and form, to access and tell The fight. The pulse of blue light that crawled The Earth like sizzling ash. Do you think you can say the unspoken? Do you think you can mend what is broken? Do you even know what you're dealing with? Do your little tricks ever work? Do you think you can say the unspoken? Do you think you can keep what is broken? Do you think your prayer can heal us? Is it you who bring the storm?