Empty purses and filled up hearses.
The poor and lonely fade with their curses.
The sun don't shine under the bridge.
The rains came down, washed out the ridge.
Their hope flew out their broken window.
The winds picked up and started to blow.
The last thread of salvation to sew.
Together, any faith that they've come to know.
They are just memories no one remembers.
Fuel for the fire that's now just embers.
Just dirty ash no one should touch.
The truth of life that's just too much.