She waits by the window watching for the headlights.
She hasn't heard from him in days.
He made his bed at the bottom of a rolling river, his son would only know his name.
It is a broken world.
Tears fall from the preacher standing at the altar, because he knows he's lost his faith. Last beat for the heart of an alcoholic, because he would not change his ways.
And as the fire grows weak in the woman that sells her body, she wonders where she lost control.
Empty are the hands of a starving child.
His skin reveals his tiny bones.
It is a broken world.
So let it crumble at the breath of the king.
Take the hand of the one who's suffering.
Burn as bright as the stars.
There is hope, and it burns within us all.
So burn.
In the sickness, in the hopeless, in the dying, there is hope.
So burn.