| We were driving, following the river
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| A Northern California get away
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| A burned-down forest, tree trunks and ashes
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| Must’ve blazed up like a bail of hay
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| So we left the car beside the road
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| And wandered in desolation
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| Watercolor, baker’s globe mallow
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| Hollyhock, the dawn, and the wasteland
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| Purple splashes, hope among the ashes
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| Just enough to hold in your hand
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| Some kind of flowers only bloom
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| After the burn…
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| We will return
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| We slept on the ground
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| The wind was howling like a ghost
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| When we got back home
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| There were ashes in our hair and clothes
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| Now I’m older, look out at the mountains
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| Watch how the colors slowly changed
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| I remember the baker’s globe mallow
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| How I never looked at life the same
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| Some kind of flowers only bloom
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| After the burn…
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| We will return
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| Some kind of flowers only bloom
|
| After the burn…
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| We will return |