| The Morning After |
|---|
| The sky is black |
| The ground is red |
| The streets of hate |
| Are charred and dead |
| The war stand out |
| Against the sky |
| And crowds appear |
| To wonder why |
| The morning after |
| We ask for right questions |
| The morning after |
| We make the suggestions |
| We’ve gotta make changes |
| When I’m going to wait |
| But the morning after is too late |
| The shell that’s left is still a cage |
| The flames have not consumed the rage |
| And men who souls are trapped and slumped |
| Will wait until the next time comes |
| The morning after |
| We ask for right questions |
| The morning after |
| We make the suggestions |
| We gotta make changes |
| When I? m going to wait |
| But the morning after |
| Is too late… |
