Last Days

© Amy Soucy & Stephen Murphy

These are the last days / a storm’s blowin’ in
Earth shakes her back / she warns us again
High on a hillside / a tree stands all alone
Looking out over miles of wire, and cities of stone

Now it's rations of hope
We keep in our pockets /Like a last hit of dope
Out of a dark sky / a lonely eagle flies
There’s nowhere to land. She doesn’t ask why

CHORUS:
We could be children in the garden
We could be waves inside the wind
But we build our towers higher
And we dig ourselves deeper in

We are running on empty promises,
And hollow kisses on the cheek
We are dealing with the Devil my friends,
But the goods they come so cheap
But we could be
(Oh, what we could be) 

Nobody remembers / When the tides turned
And no one can tell you / why the rivers burned
Or how the seas rose / or where to lay the blame
It's just an ocean of suffering… for a thimble of gain

CHORUS:
We could build ourselves a paradise
We have the means within our reach
Instead of endless war, and dying whales
Stranded on the beach

We could be children in the garden
We could be rising up in song
We could carry those who cannot stand
And right our every wrong
Oh, we could be
What we could be

When we hand this world over / How will it look?
For those who come after / Could we rewrite the book?
The book of Our Last Days / it is not carved in stone...