It's 4 a.m., and the world is half asleep
I see the veteran look out the airport window, quietly
It's 5 a.m., and the sunrise is gently creeping in
And I wonder, is the light upon the world
Today's new light of hope to him?
Or just a memory of times long gone?
And I wonder, is this light upon the world
The same breaching your window's blinds?
Or just a dying spark from this time
Last year?
And I wonder, is the light of human race
A blot of ink, a cosmic verse?
And I wonder, is this light upon your face
Some other's lightbulb's universe?
And I wonder, do we live and die with reasons on our empty heads?
Like why I'm living still
In yesteryear
It's 4 a.m., and the world is such a mess