The Aftermath (Of This Unfortunate Event) - The Black Atlantic

Our silence hides nothing

In this truce before sleep

One can hear the

Creaking of ghosts

Of no shape or hue

I’ll admit I’ve used

All the wrong words

To position myself

Ohhhh, Ohhhh

Each climb, steeper the fall

The lull of short-lived counsel

We transform and

Back again

When the night breaks for day

Ohhhh, Ohhhh

Unlike you

I cannot so easily rekindle

I need time to really unfold

Unlike me

You do not so easily forget

You need time to feel loved again

In the aftermath

Of this unfortunate event

Our silnce

Our silence