unmade

Sleeping At Last

When we were young our words were innocent -
whiter than snow, awkward and slow.

Now when we speak, we risk an avalanche.
But thatââ?¬â?¢s not enough now to reroute our plans.

I believe that weââ?¬â?¢ve got it wrong, got it wrong.
Weââ?¬â?¢ll realize when itââ?¬â?¢s said and done, said and done,
that in our words weââ?¬â?¢ve lost so much more than weââ?¬â?¢ve ever won.

The aftermath is cracked wood where fences stood
and the broken bones of our childhood.

In our trembling fear, we put words inside Godââ?¬â?¢s mouth.
We cover our tracks and get so proud of ourselves,
we get so proud of ourselves,
we get so proud of ourselves when we get away.

I believe that weââ?¬â?¢ve got it wrong, got it wrong.
Weââ?¬â?¢ll realize when itââ?¬â?¢s said and done, said and done,
that in our words weââ?¬â?¢ve lost so much more than weââ?¬â?¢ve ever won.

Itââ?¬â?¢s in our nature to complicate,
but in the end itââ?¬â?¢s the casualties that carry all the weight.