Beyond the grave,
still putting the pieces in place,
she knows the names;
she knew the faces,
just the same.
She won't wonder,
no, Sophia knows for sure:
you can't just wash your hands of the sickness for the cure.
It's not a long way home,
but if you don't know the way,
this could take a while.
Like hands in clay,
Sophia finishes the days.
She fires away
immutable shapes without delay.
As we pass by,
our cloudy gaze fixed toward the sky,
she just smiles, her justifications undefiled.
It's not a long way home,
but if you don't know the way,
this could take a while.
still putting the pieces in place,
she knows the names;
she knew the faces,
just the same.
She won't wonder,
no, Sophia knows for sure:
you can't just wash your hands of the sickness for the cure.
It's not a long way home,
but if you don't know the way,
this could take a while.
Like hands in clay,
Sophia finishes the days.
She fires away
immutable shapes without delay.
As we pass by,
our cloudy gaze fixed toward the sky,
she just smiles, her justifications undefiled.
It's not a long way home,
but if you don't know the way,
this could take a while.