They said this day would never come
And yet with the dawning of the sun
Will rise a hope, a symbol for all
Who plead for sanity to be restored
As titans crumble around us
Greatest of men reduced to dust
A miracle born from dying power
Heralds new strength in this darkest hour
Remember this day, young and old
Which rose with the dawning sun of gold
Two million marched to bear witness
The man who promised to make the difference
Studio B
- Mark
- When you need to wake up in the morning, and set the right mood for the day, when you need to escape from the overwhelming everything of life. What do you turn to? How do you describe your core without speaking aloud, without having to talk to someone about it? This is how. Music. Lyrics. Poetry. Do you feel it? Do you? It's here, it's everywhere, locked within you, within the most tone deaf of us. It's begging to be released, become unleashed in a tearing chord, a crying melody, soulful harmony, dying lyric. You feel it yet? It's concealed here, within every word that I write. This is my release. I want you to see it, to feel it with me. This pure expression of every tangible and imaginable emotion known and unknown to man. To me. Welcome to The Window.