In The Aftermath – Jake Allen Sharp

In the aftermath of fire I survey the ashes

Merry-go-round the sun spins and it crashes

Have the hands of time stopped turning?

Our minds are blackened from the burning?

Ashes on our heads as we mourn

We cry out and our clothes as torn

Powder falls right through my hand

Like an hour glass and sand

Life is but a vapor while we are here

In the aftermath it all will disappear 

Source: In The Aftermath – Jake Allen Sharp

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