Bradley

To produce nothing but withdrawn faith,
On that once wild, now withered day

Allows us time,
So sweet, so true, so unbelieving

What have we survived, conquered and ultimately overcome

Who rose to us and came to us, open, honest and new

So wondrous is the notion that he spared himself of suffering,
Not that he suffered before he was spared

But did he know, had he seen already,
Was what lay ahead, to some, what had been

Could he have read the lines of doubt, the minds of doubters

The real feelings that awaited beyond glossy grins and wretched touch

So wondrous is the notion that he spared himself of suffering,
Not that he suffered before he was spared

Forever I hear the silent cry,
Echoing and
Echoing and
Echoing,
Always the silent cry

No other sound has felt so real, so soft to the touch, so velvet,
Surrounding me with warmth and comfort

In the silent cry I can feel life, feel living,
Living where the life never was

So wondrous is the notion that he spared himself of suffering,
Not that he suffered before he was spared