On a hilltop past a valley
I learned that life would never be the same
The phone will ring
A daily meal of police reports and tv screens
A call to a relative
Comb the woods and comb the streets
Caught up in something that no one understood
Yet everyone had a say
You were a father, a brother, and a son
These day's we've been feeling uneasy
Somber eyes that knew the truth but we kept believing
It's ok just come back home
Or at least pick up the phone
Send us a message
Let us know that you're still here
While we eagerly wait
I just talked to you last week
Found you resting
The tall gra** by the train tracks
In the same clothes that you left in
Made yourself a bed out of cold steel and lead
The family
The songs we sang
The honest preacher
A collection of noise
On a hilltop past a valley
I learned that life would never be the same
The children will always remember
But you can't hold hands with a memory