Too many believe
In some master plan
cause its hard to accept
Whats not shapen by hand.

But here, under the sun,
Where events cant be undone;
Once superstitions spent -
You gotta know,
We want our brothers back.

The hurt came down
From the clear blue sky.
The sands of time
Went rushing by.

It came as a shock,
Wed shut our eyes.
Is this all thats left,
Just a slow good-bye?

The curators frown
And they wax abstract.
But, man, if youve found love
What could matter more than that?

Its a crime and a shame (selfish and vain)
To try to justify this pain.
I guess theyll think what they will -
But before the dawn
Theyll want their brothers back.