Brief me - J4y

There she sits her hands are held Tight around her glass She only needs to be alone She knows this mood will pass To realize that she was strong And he too weak to stay And to realize that she is better off this way Brief candles in her mind Bright and tiny gems of memory Brief candles burn so fine Leaves a light inside where she can see What makes it all worthwhile Her sadness makes her smile His alone girl fades away Left out on a limb Finds he needs her more because She's no more need for him He understood so very well The things she had to say Soon he'll understand that he is better off this way Brief candles in his mind Bright and tiny gems of memory Brief candles burn so fine Leaves a light inside where he can see What makes it all worthwhile His sadness makes him smile In the corner see his face The man just sips his drink Not one feeling does he show Far too numb to think He does not say a single word No word of love to say Maybe he will soon believe he's better off this way Brief candles in his mind Bright and tiny gems of memory Brief candles burn so fine Leaves a light inside where he can see What makes it all worthwhile His sadness makes him smile

Alone in his empty room He read that book page by page In search of truth Of comfort or some hope He read 'If you knock, my door will open' But those he tried were all locked tight Like flickering lights Bits of memories crossed his mind Countless shattered pieces That refused to fall in place He read 'I'll search for all the lost ones' But how much more lost could he be He shook his fist at heaven Stood up for all the broken souls I will not forget the words He spoke to me that day He said 'Man, if you believe, would you ask one question In my name because to me God never speaks: Does he still rest on Sundays, and look at his creation, And think it was good? He could barely breathe Hardly grab just one clear thought The walls were closing in on him His time was running out He read 'If you ask, you will be given' And he thought of everything he had lost He shook his fist at heaven Stood up for all the broken souls I will not forget the words He spoke to me that day He said 'Man, if you believe, would you ask one question In my name because to me God never speaks: Does he still rest on Sundays, and look at his creation, And think it was good? Does he think it was good? It was a brief encounter But after all these years it's still on my mind Nobody mourned for him There were no flowers on his grave I hope at last you got your answer And if so, would you let me know?

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